Overwatch Alternate Universe Short Stories
by Thereon15
Summary: These are a collection of short stories set in different alternate universes of Overwatch. How do the agents of Overwatch celebrate Widowmaker's birthday? How good are Hanzo's skiing skills? How did Reyes become the Reaper? These and other tales await...
1. The Widow's Birthday

She woke up with a strange feeling in her chest. It was a good, blissful feeling. A feeling of finally being free and no longer having to fight her inner demons.

She had felt this feeling quite a lot ever since Overwatch rescued her from Talon's grasp and control and brought her back to their headquarters at Gibraltar. Through Mercy's neural reconditioning therapies and medicines and reconnecting with her old team, she had managed to overthrow the cold, merciless, and unloving personality that had been forced upon her by Talon.

Now, she was feeling emotion again, and her years as an unfeeling assassin felt like they occurred in a distant, foggy past. She could not recall much from them, just a whole lot of shooting, grappling, and laying down venom mines.

Amélie still had quite a few of those mines lying around the watchpoint (much to the displeasure of her new teammates' lungs when one accidentally went off somewhere and Mercy had to swoop in with some medical aid), and her grappling hook lay curled neatly on the metal floor of her room.

Even though the metal claw symbolized a past of indifferent killing and working to undermine peace, she could not bear to part with such an invaluable tool. After all, it had saved her life many times from the time-traveling Brit.

Tracer. The name that once brought tears of hatred to her eyes now evoked a fondness in her heart. It had been Tracer who had led the strike team that broke into one of Talon's main headquarters and abducted her. It had been Tracer who, despite the dislike she herself had for the purple-skinned murderer, had protected the Widowmaker from the angry arrows of Hanzo and the brute strength of Zarya, both of whom had every wish to kill her after her capture. Tracer had convinced even the most stubborn members of Overwatch that Amélie was still somewhere in there, and had begged a reluctant Mercy to do all she could to bring her back.

Needless to say, Angela had been successful, and here she was, back to her old self. But she had Tracer to thank for everything; if not for her, she would be a puddle of purple goo outside the Talon base courtesy of Zarya's particle cannon. Now, she was Amélie again, and her purple skin was even starting to recede back to a light tan, thanks to Mercy's periodic treatments that counteracted Talon's chemicals and formulas. Now, she stood with the ones she had once hated, and Lena was now one of her closest companions.

She sat up on the bed in her chamber, blinking the sleep from her amber eyes. She dragged her sweat-soaked body off of her mattress, thinking that she really needed to bug Winston about the air conditioning again.

Here at Gibraltar, sometimes it failed so badly that in the mornings, Reinhardt and Junkrat (who shared a room, much to the displeasure of both) were sometimes seen using pails to bail the ankle-deep pool of sweat out of their room. Even Genji, with his cybernetic sensory receptors turned to the minimum, still complained about the heat.

Symmetra and Torbjörn had tried without success to engineer a new and improved system of cooling in the base, as this existing system had been established when the watchpoint was built during the First Omnic Crisis and was severely outdated. Symmetra had once managed to make the base even hotter that it was, though, when she accidentally got a hard light field stuck in the main intake valve when trying to fix the air conditioning. This field basically cooked the air traveling into the watchpoint and for three days the team was researching, training, and sitting in Sahara-level temperatures. You couldn't go outside either, as for some reason the sun had decided to be just as scorching during this time.

Roadhog had even taken off his mask for the first time to alleviate the heat on his face during this time, and Amélie was still trying to get the image of Junkrat wearing only underwear as an attempt to cool off out of her mind.

Although the hard light field had eventually been removed by a cranky Lúcio, Amélie felt as if she still had not recovered from the heatstroke the ordeal had given her.

Today, the air conditioning was looking bad again. It probably had shut off sometime in the night, as Amélie's sweat-streaked bedsheets suggested.

She staggered to her bathroom to freshen up, and walked out into the hallway. Immediately she was tackled by two blurs of orange and blue.

Her assassin drive automatically kicked in, and she found her fingers closed around the neck of the first person on top of her before realizing that she was not under attack. Her brain might have forgotten the memories of her time as Widowmaker, but it would never forget the well-practiced skills and battle instincts honed during her time as an assassin for Talon.

Heart pounding as she lay on the floor of the hallway, she surveyed the cheery face of her two assailants.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVE!" Squealed a peppy cockney voice.

A calmer but just as cheerful Asian tone also called out,

"We have come to wish you the best on your special day, Amélie."

Amélie managed to get back onto her feet. She had not thought that being tackled was a way to wish someone a happy birthday, but the excitement of her friends brought a smile to her face.

"Thank you, Lena, Mei. Is today really my birthday? During my years under Talon, I never had the luxury of blowing out candles. I even have forgotten what day my birthday was. Thank you for reminding me. You remembered, even through all those years of me trying to-"

"Kill us, love? Well, we forgive ya. And I'll never forget what _your_ birthday is. 6/6/2066; it's impossible to forget!"

"Oh, well, that's easy enough for me to remember." Widowmaker said. Lena grabbed her arm, dragging her down to the cafeteria. Mei followed, spraying a thin mist of ice crystals in the air with her Endothermic Blaster to mitigate the heat building in the absence of the air conditioning.

"Come on, we've prepared a surprise for you, wait 'till you see it!"

The energetic woman was nearly bursting with excitement as she pulled a staggering Amélie down the hall. Along the way, they sped past a cranky-looking McCree shaving in his bathroom and a yawning Soldier: 76 as he put on his visor.

Arriving at the cafeteria, Amélie was greeted by a huge chorus of "Happy Birthday" from D. Va, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Mercy, Lúcio, Genji, Zenyatta, Winston, Pharah, and Hanzo. They were all standing in front of a colossal cake decorated with frosting venom mines and a perfectly-frosted and exquisitely detailed portrait of herself in the center, completely free of purple skin, with all the other Overwatch heroes bordering her, each also having been designed with meticulous skill and detail. She noticed with a smirk that McCree's nose and ears had been (probably purposely) elongated so that he looked like an elf from a Western Christmas show, and that Winston's eyes were slightly crossed.

"Not our best work" Torbjörn apologized as he gestured towards himself, D. Va, Mercy, and Zenyatta.

"Though Zenyatta had the most careful hands of us all." He added.

"Don't forget me! I did the McCree one!" Piped Tracer.

"I'm sure he will enjoy the fact that his features were stretched farther than his ego is large." Genji quipped. "Make sure we give him the piece of cake with his face on it."

They roared with laughter as Tracer retorted,

"Hey, it was my best! And he's not exactly the most handsome guy to work with in the first place, you know! I wanted to do Hanzo; his astronomical beauty outshines even the stars on the clearest night, and his majestic appearance makes even the pickiest of lady dragons go barmy over him, and his clean shaven chin and dreamy eyes soften the hearts of even the coldest of murderers, and-"

"That is enough, dear Lena. I am honored that you think so highly of me, but you border on mockery." Hanzo said with a scowl.

"What's to mock about you?" Inquired a drowsy Junkrat as he limped into the cafeteria to join them. Roadhog followed, a huge mug of coffee cradled in his hook.

"Other than the fact that although the dragons you launch into battle are huge, your own, erm, _dragon_ is probably as short as Roadhog's fuse on a bad day-"

The explosives fanatic had to dodge as Hanzo's bow sailed over his head and bounced clean off Roadhog's large belly, smacking D. Va in the back.

"You speak dishonorably and without truth. My, erm... _dragon_ was once the envy of an entire clan. Only Genji's surpassed it, hence why he was the playboy who got all the females in the town." Hanzo seethed, his face red with anger and embarrassment.

"The envy of an entire clan?" D. Va shouted as she walked over, hobbling slightly due to the weapon that had just collided with her back,

"The only thing your old clan envied about you was your ability to win fights. All you had to do was look your enemies in the eye and they would either turn into ashes or explode with agony. Wasn't it said, in Hanamura, that Hanzo Shimada had the ability to slay even a deity with his repulsive looks? I swear that was printed on a Japanese scroll somewhere...And that _dragon_ of yours? Not even as large as Torbjörn is tall. And what did you say to all those women when you were the so-called envy of the clan? "My dragon awakens for you?" "Don't believe in love at first sight? Well, let me shoot you in the face again-with more than ONE type of dragon!" "Roses are red, Violets are blue, RYUUGAWA GA TEKI WO KURAU!"

At this point Hanzo had gone as red as McCree's cloak, Roadhog was guffawing so loudly he nearly toppled over, Lúcio, Tracer, and Junkrat were rolling over laughing, Genji had probably sprained a few cyborg muscles as he doubled over in mirth, and Winston, Symmetra, and Mercy were standing off to a side, uncomfortably glaring at D. Va.

"There will be no more of this!" Roared Hanzo, slamming his fist down onto the table, making a chuckling Reinhardt give him a wide berth.

D. Va opened her mouth to say more, but a look from Winston that said "enough is enough, or I'll go all primal rage on your Playstation 8", and she maintained her silence.

"This day is about Amélie, not insulting Hanzo's dragon." Mercy said with utter finality and sternness. "You children need to rise above this profane and immature so-called humor."

"Well, Hanzo needs to rise above his dra-"

"ENOUGH" Roared Symmetra, eyes glaring daggers at the laughing occupants in the room. "If you are going to say anything more about Hanzo that is cruel, unwelcome, and immoral, you may do so with a sentry turret melting your tongue." Hanzo gave a brief nod of thanks to Symmetra and Mercy.

This settled matters, and by this time everyone in the base had meandered to the cafeteria, drawn by the noise.

"Now then," Winston announced, looking flustered but immensely relieved that the tirades and roasts were over, "It is time for Amélie to make a wish. Personally, if I am to make a suggestion, you should wish for a better job on my frosting portrait on the cake for the next person's birthday. I look so cross-eyed, it's as if I'm almost as wasted as Reinhardt and Soldier every Friday night!"

"This is a target-rich environment, so I'd watch my tongue if I were you, Winston." A gruff voice rang out from the back of the room. Soldier: 76 hefted his rifle, hoping to intimidate Winston.

"Right, Amélie, time to make a wish. Oh wait! The candles!"

On each frosting portrait's head was a small candle. In all the turmoil, nobody had lit them. Mercy went into the kitchen to grab a lighter, but Lúcio called out,

"Wait! My latest mixtape should do the trick."

Pharah snorted in derision.

"Your mixtape? If anyone wants to have solid garbage spewed all over their cake, then yeah."

"Alright, Ms. Justice, next mission, you're last priority for my HEALING AND SPEED MIXTAPE TO AID YOU AND MAYBE SAVE YOUR LIFE! THAT STUFF WASN'T GARBAGE TO YOU WHEN I SAVED YOU FROM THAT MERCENARY GROUP WITH IT!" And Angela, Zenyatta, Satya, you guys are not allowed to help her either! We'll see just how far justice rains next mission without support, huh! I feel like it will go something like: "JUSTICE RAINS FROM-AHHHHHH!"

"Team, remember that we are a cooperative, cohesive unit. Minimal bickering and all that jazz." McCree spoke up. This was so unlike him that many turned to look at him, to see a drawl dripping with playful sarcasm. "But seriously, though, somebody better stop or somebody else is gonna end up with a bullet in their dragon."

Roars of laughter echoed through the halls and Pharah and Hanzo looked as if they were ready to go on rampages and unleash barrages of rockets, concussive blasts, and scatter arrows everywhere, so Winston had to intervene before he had to repair the entire watchpoint.

"Good lord, fellows, if you have this much beef with each other we should have done a birthday steak dinner."

"Good one!" Intoned Zenyatta, always one for puns.

"Not really." Scoffed an unimpressed Zarya. "The dragon jokes contained much more humor."

"I agree." Roadhog growled, earning a glare from Symmetra.

Reinhardt was still trying to pick his elderly frame off the floor after his laughter had crippled him.

Mercy re-emerged from the kitchen with a lighter, and proceeded to light the entire cake undisturbed by any more jibes. The silence was probably due to the fact that she had disapproved from the very beginning and currently held a large knife with which to cut the cake, and possibly the fingers of anybody daring to make another joke.

"There. All done." She said as she finished the last candle.

Amélie walked over and blew all the tiny flames out, the wisps of smoke drifting up from the cake like tiny serpents.

Mei and Torbjörn went to stand by her side, Mei to share the great moment with her, her first birthday since her capture by Talon, and Torbjörn to get the largest and first piece of cake.

"Cheers, love." Amélie looked up to see Tracer holding a glass of punch in her hand. Smiling, Amélie poured herself a drink as well and toasted with her friend.

"The one time that phrase actually makes sense."

"Happy birthday, love."


	2. D Va is a Cold-blooded Savage (Part 1)

"C'mon, loves! The line's getting a little long over here!"

Tracer held a can of soda in her right hand an a pair of skis in her left. She was currently trying to usher her friends into a line to rent out equipment for skiing and snowboarding.

They were in Russia, following an invite from Zarya to spend a week and ski at her favorite childhood ski resort. This morning was to be their first day at the resort, as part of a week-long vacation.

Overwatch had been disbanded, but the old team still got together occasionally to reminiscence about the good old times and hang out as friends.

Today, Lena had gotten up extra early in her hotel room due to the jet lag from flying here from Britain, and had driven to the resort, finding an excited Zarya at the entrance. As always, Tracer had been the first to arrive.

After all the invited people had come (save Symmetra, as she had to go on an assignment from Vishkar) and Zarya had led the group inside to buy their tickets, they had all gone into the ski room to pick their equipment.

Now, Tracer stood impatiently in line as the rest of her former team took way too long to pick out their stuff.

"Hmmm.." Mulled Hanzo, staring at a pair of pearly-white skiing boots with dragon emblems painted on them. "These seem worthy of my-"

"Fungus-infested feet?" D. Va smirked as she passed him, having selected an overly colorful pair of skis herself.

"Why, you insolent child! I was going to say they seemed worthy for my glorious skill."

"Let's not get too cocky before we even get on them slopes." McCree scolded him as he stashed his Peacekeeper in his locker. "We'll see just how glorious you are when we make you do the black diamonds."

"Ha! You think those measly hills are a match for my years of ninja and combat training? I will navigate them with utter excellence and unparalleled agility!" Hanzo boasted.

Meanwhile, Roadhog was having trouble opening his locker. He had stashed his stuff inside, and his hook had gotten stuck on the lock mechanism when he had closed the locker. Now he was heaving his entire row of lockers several feet as he strained to pull his own open.

The other petrified omnics and humans in the room were frantically screaming as their stuff flew down from their own lockers as an irate Roadhog heaved the row this way and that. A small child, at the sight of the rather enraged and intimidating junker, clung to his mother and started crying in fright. Pharah went over to help Roadhog, but soon she was getting frustrated as well at the stubborn lock to the point that the rocket launcher was about to make an appearance and take a crack at the locker itself.

Sighing, Tracer got out of her place in line to prevent the Egyptian woman from destroying the entire locker room and burning the belongings of everybody to a crisp. She blinked over to where the armored woman and Roadhog were arguing over the best angle at which to fire Pharah's concussive blast to blast open the locker without destroying Roadhog's stuff inside.

"Loves, loves, it is not necessary to use brute force here, see-" Tracer found a notch where Roadhog's hook had caught on the lock, and, with some difficulty, dislodged the hook. The locker sprang open, and Tracer was hit full force on the knee with Roadhog's scrap gun and canteen as they tumbled out. That gun must have weighed a thousand pounds, because Tracer felt as if her knee had been splintered in half.

Roadhog apologized and expressed his thanks as relieved onlookers went back to their belongings, no longer having to fear the wrath of a hulk-like brute shaking down their lockers like they were rag dolls.

Genji had so far been unsuccessful in fitting the ski boots onto his specially-crafted cyborg feet, so Reinhardt had gone up to the counter to ask if they had any handicapped or other special types of boots that might fit the ninja.

"How handicapped are we talking?" Inquired the deep-voiced, assertive-looking woman from behind the counter, looking up at the German's tall frame. "Feet, legs, arms...?"

"How about the entire body save a small fragment of his face and shoulder. He relies on artificial attachments." Reinhardt intoned grimly. "I kid you not, the man is basically a walking tin can on ninja steroids. Do not mention that to him, though."

The woman barely had an opportunity to show her shock and disbelief when Genji himself walked over.

"I, the cybernetic cyborg Genji, am almost completely cybernetic and comprised of cybernetic parts. Do not judge me due to my cybernetic nature or I will fillet your throat with my cybernetic katana like a sushi chef presented with a fresh bass. I demand some boots that will fit my cybernetic feet. If you are cybernetically unable to provide me with such cybernetic equipment, I will unleash my cybernetic shurikens on your cybernetically-challenged body and utterly lay waste to your hopelessly uncybernetic flesh."

"Wha-GENJI!" Reinhardt spluttered in shock and disapproval as the woman behind the counter pulled herself up to her full height and slapped Genji across the visor with both hands. She was reaching for a snowboard with which to do the same thing, but Reinhardt pulled Genji away from the attack.

"Why say such things? I thought you had overcome your existential crisis with your machine body! There is no need for this unfounded-yet humorous-aggression!" The former crusader inquired.

Dodging a furious swing of a particularly lethal-looking snowboard with a heavy aesthetic of metal spikes, Genji lamented, "Zenyatta has been absent from my life for a long time. I fear that my soul has once again plunged into the dark valley of despair and self-loathing it once was dragged out of by him."

"Well, you'll see him when he comes back from his pilgrimage to Nepal, and I'm sure he'll make you feel better. In the meantime, try not to make mean comments about other people, especially regarding their cybernetic nature, or lack thereof." Reinhardt said, as he wrestled to keep the counter woman from grabbing a pair of sharp-bladed skis to continue her assault.

"Oh? And does this make you a hypocrite? You tell me to refrain from making mean comments, yet I overheard your shattering voice-I like you, but you cannot whisper for your life, my friend-telling the woman at the counter that I was on steroids."

"Damn straight he said that!" The furious-looking woman huffed. "And I'm still looking for an apology from your rusty ass, you Omnic wannabe!"

As Reinhardt opened his mouth to spew a hasty apology in Genji's stead, D. Va wandered over.

"What? Ol' tin man's on performance-enhancing drugs now? Those are banned from professional gaming events, you know. I don't know about crying-about-my-existence-as-an-awesome-robot-because-I-somehow-don't-think-it's-awesome events, though. Steroids may be legal for those."

"Your commentary is not appreciated, Doritos-chomping munchkin. Go drool over your first person shooters." Genji snarled.

"Screw you too, Genji. Actually take me up on that advice, though; I think some of those screws holding your feeble limbs together could use a few extra tightens and twists-"

The katana was almost truly used to fillet someone's head, had D. Va not ducked in time to avoid Genji's _swift strike_.

Hanzo walked over, having indeed chosen the pair of ski boots with the dragons.

"What ails you, brother?"

"You," Genji snapped, "And the curse you placed on me. If you hadn't killed me and forced me to don this metal body, all this violence and rudeness wouldn't be happening right now! And I could wear normal ski boots like you and not have to ask violent women for special ones!"

"Well, you always were "special", weren't you, Genji?" D. Va teased. "Special needs, that is."

"You are four years old. Go back to your mommy Roadhog and stop pestering me." Genji snarled, his visor flickering with anger.

"Well, I will once mommy Roadhog learns how to open a locker. His lard buttocks were actually jiggling with effort as he tried to open a teeny, tiny lock. You should have seen how useless all those so-called muscles of his were. Tracer opened it in like a second, and she's basically a time-traveling twig. But Roadhog's fat rolls sure got their workout in. I swear, they were working up magnitude 8.3 earthquakes with the shock waves they were generating as they rippled underneath that moldy loincloth he calls a-"

The Korean gamer was then swiftly whisked out of sight by a tremendous metal hook that closed around her waist. With a yelp, she passed behind a row of lockers (nobody knows how Roadhog managed to hook behind a corner) to face whatever Roadhog's mighty wrath would inflict upon her.

"What an insolent creature of pain and endless mockery," Genji and Hanzo sighed at the same time.

"I can't believe you guys have the exact same description of Hana." Reinhardt whispered in awe. Even the angry counter woman stopped to admire the unison of the words.

Hanzo raised his eyebrows. "Jinx."

Genji's eye roll was concealed behind his visor, but everybody knew he was doing it. "You are as insufferable as that little whelp."

"You owe me two arrows and your entire existence for speaking before someone called your name, Genji."

"His entire existence is pathetic. If I were you, Hanzo, I'd refuse that and have him spend two bucks instead at the convenience store here buying some cheap plastic foam toy arrows that are probably far deadlier than your own overgrown wood chips are. Should do you some good to listen to me." D. Va had returned, looking a little worse for the wear after Roadhog had administered his punishment. However, her tongue was just as savage as before.

"I'll put one of my overgrown wood chips in between your eyes if you say another word, you delirious dung-rolling donkey!" Hanzo screeched.

"My eyes are up here, you know."

Reinhardt and the counter woman roared with laughter as Hanzo turned as red as a beet.

"W-what a silly accusation; I-I never-"

"Embrace the love, partner," McCree drawled as he sauntered over to the group. "It'll only get stronger the more you fight it."

"I'll put an arrow in your skull as well, cowboy." Hanzo said, still extremely red in the face.

"If by "skull" you meant "butt", 'cause you were definitely looking at my fine posterior as I walked over here, I'll take your word for it."

D. Va and the counter woman were snorting so loudly with laughter that Roadhog peered across the aisle to see if some of his pig relatives had decided to turn up and join them on the vacation.

Hanzo decided to excuse himself to repair his dignity in private, and D. Va was about to turn her vicious tongue on Reinhardt when;

"OI LOVES! ARE YOU BLOODY RASCALS COMING WITH ME TO GET IN LINE TO CHECK OUT OUR SHIT, OR ARE YOU ALL GOING TO KEEP ON SQUABBLING LIKE A BUNCH OF MENTALLY-CHALLENGED ORANGUTANS?!" A red-faced Tracer was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at her former teammates.

"C'mon, Trace, we don't all act like Winston!" D. Va rang out in indignation. The locker room was full of throaty guffaws from Roadhog and large chuckles from everybody else until Winston roared,

"That's quite enough, Hana. I could hear your merciless attacks on everybody else from across the room, and I am not eager to have that formidable wit turned towards me. Lena is right; we must make haste or the slopes will be all melted by the time we finally settle down and get out there."

"Rest assured-in Mother Russia, the slopes ski you. They never run out of snow with which to do so either, so harbor no worries about it melting." Zarya announced.

"And plus, we've got Mei here too to freeze up some melting areas, or Angela could just drop her latest model picture; that'll sure freeze over everything in a ten-mile radius, as it's the opposite of hot-"

"Child, please." Mercy begged in an exasperated tone. "If you want to roast, do it only over a campfire with a marshmallow in your hand."

"Alright gang! I'm all prepped and ready, and we should start heading out there. Jump in the line for checking out your stuff!" called out Junkrat as he stuffed the last of his concussive mines into his bulging locker.

This prompted Lúcio to start singing the ancient but still well-known song, "Jump in the Line" as everybody lined up. Tracer, Pharah, and Mei got into an acapella-style harmony, and Winston was adding some quality bass tones when Reinhardt interrupted the melody to say:

"Why is this filth invading my ears! Enjoy some good classics for once, like Hasselhoff!"

"I can't even take you seriously right now." Lúcio said, shaking his head as he handed up his skis to the counter woman, who had reverted back to her usual activities that did not involve braining cyborg ninjas with snowboards.

After everyone had gotten ready, Mei offered to make them all ice cream cones from her Endothermic blaster and some flavoring she obtained from the cafeteria.

"In this weather, are you serious?" Zarya asked, but accepted a cone nonetheless.

As they exited the lodge and made their way to the ski mountains, they could see crowds of people scattered throughout the slopes, on the lifts and resting areas, and hanging by the food vendors on the east side of the area.

"I wonder if I left something in my locker..." Tracer mused, as she snapped on her skis (white and orange, of course).

"I wonder if you left something in your head besides emptiness when you left your water closet in Britain to come here." D. Va had chosen a new target.

"Love, it seems you have forgotten that even without my pulse pistols, I pack a punch. I wouldn't rile me, if I were you. Luckily I'm not." Tracer retorted, folding her arms.

"Yes, if by punch you mean the slight tickles you will attempt as your feeble muscles struggle to do much of anything." D. Va chortled.

"What is with her today?" Hissed Hanzo to a giggling Junkrat.

"Dunno, but it sure is funny!" the Australian bellowed.

"Alright, who's doing the black diamond first?" Winston announced boldly, while at the same time shrinking away himself from the most formidable-looking hills in the distance.

"Mememememe!" Squealed Tracer. "I've got more than six years of ace piloting and even more agile blinking behind me! I sure can handle those slopes with ease!"

"I as well," rumbled Hanzo, causing everyone to turn in surprise. "My training has well-prepared me for whatever laughable dangers there will be on those hills, I think."

"I will go with you, brother, if only to laugh when you fall on your face." Genji called out.

"Or when he breaks his face on one of those spiked boulders or huge, sharp icicles they have as obstacles on those slopes. Still, there's not much he can do to make himself look even uglier than he is now!"

Hanzo hissed with fury. "Shut up, Hana, or I will make you." Tracer no longer looked so confident about her abilities to traverse the black diamond slopes, as she was thinking about how painful a huge icicle would be if it impaled itself in her chest.

"Oh, make me with what? Your precious dragons aren't around now, huh? You've got no arrows to fire them from. Well, you could always just get Genji to buy you some foam toy arrows from the convenience store, like I mentioned before. Not sure what types of dragons will spring forth from those, though." D. Va smirked.

"Giant foam pool noodles." Chortled Genji. "Should come in handy for our annual pool party."

"Or bathtime," laughed Winston.

"New Reality Show: Bathtime with Hanzo Shimada. Watch as he launches an unbelievable spray of soapy devastation from his pool noodle arrows. GASP! He even has a rubber duckling to accompany him on his dangerous aquatic quests! Ryuu GaQuacka Teki Wo Kurau!" D. Va screamed as everyone but Hanzo cackled with laughter.

"Huge sponges is actually what he'll launch." Mercy laughed, finally joining in the fun. "I should have a sufficient supply of them with which to wipe the drool off of McCree's face every time he looks at me."

"Hey, I ain't never liked you in that way, as angelic as you are, Mercy." McCree huffed, his smile fading from his face.

"Embrace the love. If you fight it, it only gets stronger, remember?" Hanzo said with a grin.

"Yeah, good one there, throwin' my words back at me, dragon boy."

"You mean, bathtime sensation?"

Laughter. Hanzo sighed. They would never let him forget this. Now they would not see him as the seasoned, formidable warrior he was. Only a bathtub celebrity. Well, it still beats the bedroom celebrity that Genji was before his transformation, he thought.

"Guys, if we're going to get any skiing or snowboarding done today, we have to get to it. Standing around laughing at Hanzo's pool noodle may be D. Va's definition of fun, but not mine. Let's go." Zarya told everyone.

"What's wrong with his pool noodle? Infected with an aquatic STD? Better rub-a-dub-dub, scrub him clean of that, Mercy!" D. Va howled, greeted by tremendous guffaws from all sides. Zarya shook her head with disgust and hopelessness.

"Hanzo was beginning to imagine how beautiful a scatter arrow would look as it collided with D. Va's smug face right now, but he was interrupted from his vision by Tracer.

"Well, love, if you're gonna go with me to the black diamonds, we had best be off. They look a long ways away, after all."

Hanzo grabbed his skis and walked with Tracer towards the scary slopes in the distance.


	3. D Va is a Cold-blooded Savage (Part 2)

Genji followed them as they went towards the black diamond mountains.

Junkrat, Roadhog, and a few others decided to head to the easier intermediate slopes, and a timid Winston went with the rest to the beginner areas. (I'm a scientist, not a skier.")

As Lena neared the large slopes, she began to regret her choice to challenge them. They were far steeper than she had imagined and seen from afar, and looked much more difficult than the ones she had traversed in the British resorts she had been to. And although there were no spiked rocks or icicles, the hills nevertheless seemed impossibly dangerous and difficult.

"It seems that it will take a little more than sheer gall to navigate these unscathed." Hanzo assessed as he surveyed the slopes with Tracer. Genji nodded in agreement.

"Well, brother, since you had boasted that your abilities were more than a match for these measly hills, why don't you go up on the lift first and show Lena and I how it's done?" Genji smiled.

"Very well," Hanzo said, still looking tremendously confident. He boldly walked up the the base of the ski lift that took people up to the nearest black diamond mountain. Boarding along with a young woman with hair dyed purple, he began to ascend.

"Good luck, love!" Called Tracer. Hanzo gave a nod in acknowledgement.

"So," Genji stated after Hanzo was too high to be seen anymore, "who will be the one to carry his ashes to Mercy after this?"

"Oh, please. I believe in his abilities. After all, he is very skilled. Should translate into being a great skier, though I've never seen him do this before...and ashes, love? We are knee-deep in snow, mind you. No place for fire." Tracer retorted.

"Really? Then what would you call D. Va's insults that were hot enough to melt Reinhardt's armor? If that's not fire, I don't know what is."

"Those jokes were just silly. I really hope she never grows up and becomes as boringly mature as Mercy or Symmetra." Tracer huffed. "I quite enjoy the humor and life she brings to our team. Without that, we would just have: "My dragon hungers" and "It's high noon" and all that rubbish. I swear, EVERY DAY AT 12:00 HE CALLS ME AND SAYS THAT."

"Me as well." Genji sighed. "McCree is not exactly the most mature person either, even though he has seen a lot in his day would contradict his playful personality."

"Well, he was an outlaw, and there's a certain irresponsibility and carefree attitude that comes with that, regardless of what he's been through." Tracer responded.

"I suppose that explains it." Genji agreed. They then heard a voice calling them frantically.

"Tracer! Genji! Come here, I've got a job for you two!" Mei zipped over in her puffy winter coat. "We are celebrating Winston's first time off of the kiddie slope without falling! They don't make skis for huge monkeys and he was having to ski on two snowboards, but he eventually made it down without getting a face full of snow. Here, I've got some ice flavoring left, and if you two could help me gather up some clean snow with which to make a large snowball, we could flavor that and present it to Winston as a giant snow cone!"

"Casually gathers the snow that has footprints on it and looks muddier than Roadhog's skin." Genji joked.

But he, Tracer, and Mei found a patch of freshly-laid, pearly white snow to use for Winston's frosty snack. They began to roll a snowball until it was the size of a large melon. At that point, they decided that it would be a lot easier to just park the snowball in front of one of the snow blowing machines and let that pour snow onto the ball. After all, the machines spewed real snow without chemicals due to the fact that it was Russia and there was an ample supply of authentic snow, and this process would be a lot faster than rolling the snowball.

With the snow machine constantly adding bulk onto the snowball and Genji packing it down as the snow settled, the sphere was soon as large as Roadhog.

"WOAH!" Tracer exclaimed as she surveyed their work. "We might have to share this! Do you even have enough frosting to flavor this big of a thing, Mei?"

"I believe so, if I get the rest of my stores from my locker. We can work with this. Winston is going to get a permanent brainfreeze!"

"Hot ramen soup would have been a much better gift with much less hassle." Genji murmured. "That was my favorite food, and it's more fitting for this freezing weather."

"Oh, shut up love, you're a robot; you can't even feel half the cold we do-" Tracer was cut off by an earsplitting bellow of sheer terror.

Whipping around, Mei, Tracer, and Genji saw what looked like a black blur of bedsheets tumbling down the black diamond mountain.

"THE DRAGON CURSES ME! BROTHER! LENA! WINSTON! ANYONE! SAVE ME FROM THIS!"

It appeared that Hanzo's extensive abilities did not help him when it came to navigating difficult slopes after all. He was speeding up as he neared the base of the hill, rolling head over heels with his black fur cloak all tangled up around him. However, close to the bottom, Hanzo veered towards Tracer and her friends. He was rocketing straight for them and their newly-made snowball.

"LOOK OUT! NOOO! HE'LL BLOW IT TO SMITHEREENS!" They screeched as they dived for cover.

There was a tremendous poof. After a second, Genji hesitantly crept back to their snowball to check out the damage done. Hanzo was nowhere to be seen, but the snowball remained intact and just as it was before. It seemed the elder Shimada had missed the snowball entirely, and had rolled elsewhere.

"He will turn up soon. And hopefully eat his words at how great he said he was going to be on the black diamond hills." Genji laughed. "I can't wait to see the look on his smug face after that little tumble. Looks like he had best stick to the bubble baths."

"For now, since the snowball is all ready, let's call together the gang to feast!" Mei cried in excitement.

"Tracer blinked away to find the rest of her teammates. She passed the intermediate slopes to see quite a holdup near one of the ski lifts.

People were gasping and standing around in shock, concern, or annoyance. Curious, Lena made her way towards the crowd, only to see Roadhog lying face-down in a pile of scrap metal and debris that once was a former ski lift seat. Shards of metal, glass, and rubber littered the glittering snow, and almost all the rope mechanisms that pulled the lifts up and down were severed. Junkrat was standing a few feet away, stammering as he tried to explain what had happened to a disgruntled staff member.

"I-I swear, he just tried to get onto it-no sir, we weren't fooling around on the lift at all-we just sat down and the thing started moving real slow. It stopped somewhere in the middle when we were about ten feet up, so I tried to check if the rope was jammed or something, but the next second, I could hear splintering wood and tearing metal, and before we knew it, my mate here and I were plummeting towards the snowy ground! It cushioned my fall completely, but Roadhog here's a bit heavier and had a bit of a rougher landing, especially since it was actually part of his stomach that cushioned my fall-"

"Junkrat!" Lena rushed over. "What the hell-is he unconscious?" She gestured towards the large, unmoving man still lying on the ground amidst all the rubble.

"No. I'm fine." Roadhog grunted as he sat up with some difficulty, brushing shards of debris off his back. "Though it would have helped if Junkrat here had not landed on me when we we falling. I know I said I would always be there for you, but this is not what I meant, mate. And how did this thing fall anyway? It's not like I was too heavy or anything. I just started a diet last week! Now, I'm only eating 5,400 calories a day instead of the usual 7,000. What a flimsy ski lift."

"Sir, if you are consuming over 5,000 calories each day, you are more than capable of breaking our lift equipment here." Seethed the employee. "And judging by your weight, you should have known better than to get on the lift, especially with your friend on the same seat as well. I'm glad the two of you are okay, but know that we had signs around warning about a weight limit so that means it's your fault for all this damage. You will have to reimburse the resort for this."

"Well, luckily one of us is neurosurgeon and can foot the bill." Junkrat said, scratching his head.

"Oh, loves, I'm so happy you both are alright. But what the bloody hell were you thinking, Roadhog? That lift was like half of your size! And for some reason I don't think Mercy will be very happy to bail you guys out on this one. Better do some scavenging for the funds...I'm certainly not paying a single cent for your clumsiness!" Tracer scolded.

"Well, how else am I supposed to get up on the mountain but use the lift?" Roadhog argued. "It's not my fault they don't cater to extra-large customers."

"Still, love, it was unwis-" She was cut off by a gunshot in the distance. The other people on the slopes fled in panic, grabbing their stuff. Reinhardt walked up, tensing at the sound. Quick! We'll deal with the damages later, you junkers. Now, I have a bad feeling about whoever just pulled the trigger just now."

The other former Overwatch members nodded, their faces grim. Talon had attacked them before when they got together for their fun events. Although Overwatch was no more, the terrorist organization still harbored enmity with its former operatives and wished to eliminate them for good so that they would never rise again to challenge Talon. Talon had a habit of sending their best agents to eliminate the former Overwatch members when there were all in one place for a get-together. On previous occasions, the combined efforts of the teammates had managed to fend off Talon's forces, and nothing was going to stop the old team from getting together and seeing each other.

But Tracer had a sinking feeling that her two least favorite people were going to show up again and crash the party.

Another gunshot, sharp and brisk in the relative silence, cut through the air and echoed down the slopes.

"Notify the rest of them." Reinhardt hissed in Tracer's ear.

Tracer took out a radio that communicated to all the former Overwatch people on a secure channel, and spoke into it. "Attention friends. I'm gonna need you to stop having fun and listen. Again, Talon is here to bug us like ugly, pesky flies that won't go away. Meet up at the foot of the intermediate slopes. When you see a crowd and the hopeless wreckage of a ski lift that was unfortunate enough to suffer the Roadhog treatment, walk there. Make haste, as I really want to punch Reaper in the face when he turns up, and he will, so I'm gonna need you guys' help. Whoever is close to the lockers: try to go in and grab all our stuff and weapons. Tracer out."

Tracer put the comm away and surveyed the skies for any sign of Talon-related activity. But she saw nothing. D. Va was the first to heed her message and arrive at the scene.

"Wowzers. Roadhog really outdid himself this time. I believe he has grown large enough so that anybody who touches his body now can call themselves asteroid explorers. I only got here so fast because he was sucking me in with his gravity. Or tell me, Junkrat, was it one of your jokes that caused the entire structure to collapse due to how bad it was? You should know better than to subject innocent ski equipment to your atrocious-"

"If you think an attack by Talon, though not entirely surprising, is something to laugh off even with your formidable humor, you're wrong, D. Va." Winston stated sternly as he too arrived at the scene. "Mercy was near the lockers with me. I sent her in to grab our equipment-you know, our actual battle equipment. She'll be coming soon. Anybody seen Hanzo?"

"Yeah," Tracer said, not elaborating on the state he had been in when he was last seen.

"I think he'll turn up here soon, even though he'll be a little dizzy when he does."

"Why?" Asked Roadhog, still flexing his fists in anger at D. Va.

"No reason."

They were interrupted by a sudden explosion of gas. A green mist filled the air and sent them staggering apart from each other, covering their mouths, and coughing profusely. Tracer's eyes were running due to the irritating gas. Her vision was foggy and she was starting to feel weak...Widowmaker was here...

An electric blue arc pierced the green haze, and Tracer saw Winston hefting his Tesla cannon at the purple assassin as she grappled to a perch on top of one of the unbroken ski lifts. Mercy had arrived with the weapons, and Tracer saw her pulse pistols being thrown at her.

Roadhog was already charging at the Talon assassin with his chain hook in hand, and Junkrat was following close behind, arms full of bear traps and mines. People all around screamed and ran for cover. The employee who had admonished Roadhog for breaking the lift was now pale in the face and looking like he was about to faint with fear and shock.

Tracer caught her pistols as they arced towards her. Activating her chronal accelerator, she blinked to where Roadhog was. Vaulting off of his tremendous back, she launched herself into the air and emptied both clips at the Talon sniper. Widowmaker fired off a round with her sniper before swinging behind the ski lift to avoid Tracer's fire. A concussive mine went off, and Junkrat was seen hurtling through the air towards the sniper.

"It's high noon.." Rang out a voice from below. McCree had shown up, his Peacekeeper in hand. He fired at an unseen target on Widowmaker's left. As his bullet clanged off the metal of the ski lift, a shadowy black wraith began to materialize on the white snow. Twin shotguns gleamed brightly in the glare of the sun as a white mask that resembled a skull came into view. "Death will walk among you. This time, you will all die!"

"Not today!" Lúcio shuffled over and knocked Reaper down with a single blast of his sonic amplifier. He switched to a movement speed track, and Tracer immediately felt as if her feet had gotten lighter. Nobody knew how the song worked, but it was effective, and Tracer now had Lúcio's speed boost to aid her already quick movement.

She dived behind a snowbank as the ground she was just standing on was shattered with a blast of shotgun buckshot, sending flurries of snow into the air. Blinking behind Reaper, she kicked one of his shotguns from his grasp, and, true to her word, socked him in the back of the head before Rewinding behind the snowdrift for cover again. Reaper swore and targeted Mercy as she aided McCree and Winston. Dodging a flashbang and an icicle from the newly-arrived Mei, Widowmaker swung down from her perch and used her momentum to kick a surprised D. Va into the snow.

"Hey! I didn't bring my mech with me! No fair!" She complained as she got back up. Widowmaker landed gracefully and leveled the barrel of the Widow's Kiss to D. Va's head.

"Woah, don't you need to change your diaper first?" The bold Korean girl sneered to the emotionless assassin. "Wouldn't want Reaper to do it for ya, right? His hands are already busy enough when you two are between the sheets every night!"

Tracer couldn't believe her ears. Nearby, Winston stood with a shattered shield generator in his hand in shock and Mercy looked as if she was going to explode with disbelief and anger. D. Va was actually taunting the Widowmaker, a precise assassin who could and probably would kill her in the next second. She did not have her light gun yet, and of course she had not brought her mech with her when she came to Russia. She was literally defenseless, yet still had the gall to do what she does best: insult the heck out of everybody.

"I bet you have an entire photo album dedicated to Reaper's cutest moments. You two probably look over that every day while smooching over your latest pathetic kill. What are the captions to the photos? "Death at the Disco: Great Time at the Nightclub!" "Flirting with Death: It Just Got Serious." And most importantly: "Death comes in my face! This Widow's About to Make His Day Amazing-"

D. Va was interrupted by a trumpet of laughter from Roadhog, even as the brute leveled his hook at Widowmaker. Winston was aiming his Tesla gun, but he was also waiting on what Widowmaker would do. Tracer was sure the assassin had never had anybody, enemy or ally, talk to her in this way before. The amber eyes twitched with disbelief and hatred as they bored into the playful and mocking gaze of Hana Song, and the purple arms quivered with rage. Nearby, Reaper was standing with his fists clenched, almost bending his shotguns in half with his anger. "We will see who is laughing when she puts a bullet in your skull," he seethed.

"And by bullet you mean butt, as you most certainly were staring at my fine posterior as you drifted over here in all your shadowy glory." A bold male voice called out. "But for now, I have something to put in your own skull. A bath noodle. RYUUGAWA GA TEKI WO KURAU!"

Two gigantic dragons spiraled out of a glowing blue arrow as Hanzo, still covered with snow from his roll down the mountain, fired his most devastating attack at the pair of Talon agents. The immense dragons spiraled towards Widowmaker and Reaper, roaring and evaporating all the snow they touched into a fine mist with their fiery spirit energy.

By this time Zarya had arrived, particle cannon charged and shields ready, and Genji was ready to unleash his shurikens with deadly accuracy. Looking frantically around and seeing that there was no way they could succeed and defeat all these heroes, Reaper floated over to Widowmaker, grabbed her around the waist, and swiftly turned into a dark mass of swirling black smoke that rose into the air, evaded the dragons, and flew away from the resort. Soon, the two enemies were out of sight.

After a generous round of cheers ("Aw, I didn't even get to drop the beat this time, and justice didn't even rain!"), the group decided to return to their skiing and snowboarding. Everyone looked at Hanzo, who was brushing snow off his cloak.

"We may have poked fun at you, but you sure know how to end a battle with style. We owe you one, bath boy." McCree said. "And you even took another line of mine and threw it at them! I think we might just get to be best friends. I'll invite you to my favorite bars sometime."

"I would rather roll down the black diamond ski slope a thousand times than spend a night around you when you're intoxicated." Hanzo snorted, and everyone laughed.

Then D. Va spoke up. "Hey, where's my credit? I distracted them long enough with my insults for them to stop shooting you lot and for Hanzo to get here and send them packing! That counts for something, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it does, though I hate myself for saying it. I was so scared for your life, Hana. You're genuinely crazy, and it paid off." Breathed a relieved Mercy, wiping sweat off her brow and sheathing her blaster.

"Speaking of paying, Junkrat was thinking that the funds for replacing the lift that Roadhog broke would come out of your wallet. You know, since you're the neurosurgeon and all." D. Va told Mercy.

"WHAT!?"


	4. The Ninja's Burden (Part 1)

Genji Shimada awoke the the sound of soft moans echoing from down the hall. He pushed his weary frame off of the bed, secretly wishing the moaner a painful death for waking him up at 3:00 in the morning.

But he needed to go the bathroom anyway, and without the moans, his bladder would have woken him. Yawning, he made his way down the hall to the bathroom shared by the male members of Overwatch. He found the door locked. Which blasted idiot had locked the door? It was not like there was anything of value in the bathroom that needed to be securely locked away. Plus, everybody needed access to it at all times.

Grumbling, he walked back down the long hallway the way he had come, thinking that he would try his best to hold it in until Junkrat, who always woke up the earliest to tinker with his explosives, got out of bed and gave him the key. Genji had a feeling that the junker was the one who had locked the door, being the last person to use the bathroom the day before.

He had been forced by a repulsed Tracer to take his first real shower in weeks, and had spend over 2 hours washing layers of gunpowder, soot, and explosives residue off his skin and prosthetic limbs.

Genji had barely recognized the lanky man when he appeared in the recreation room yesterday after his shower, his skin a fine tan and his hair devoid of burnt and charred particulates. He looked so different without his usual grime that it was almost scary, and scarier yet to Genji was that he had found himself admiring the man's features. Now that he could see them clearly, they really were quite handsome. Almost as good as his own before his brother destroyed his old body. Genji had caught D. Va staring a little too hard, and had suppressed a chuckle.

Now, he was seething at the handsome man for locking the bathroom door. Although he was mostly cybernetic, his kidneys and urination system had remained intact. He almost wished that they had been slashed apart by Hanzo along with the rest of his body, because they were the reason why he now felt like he was holding a small watermelon in his bladder. He would not be surprised if he filled the toilet to the brim when he was able to go to the bathroom. And just for Junkrat, he would not flush and invite the Australian into the bathroom after him.

Rounding a corner and hobbling somewhat due to his swollen bladder, Genji felt as if he could not bear to hold onto his business any longer. He was not going to use the woman's restroom no matter what, and if he waited until Junkrat got up, he might explode and flood the entire base with rancid liquid. Not only would his friends then not mourn his death at all, but they would curse his name as they mopped up their flooded rooms.

To avoid leaving a legacy of smelly, yellow disgrace, he thought about the options he had. Suddenly, a stroke of inspiration came to him. He would wake Mercy to siphon the liquid out of his bladder. She could insert a syringe and a tube and suck his bloated bladder dry, and he would then have ammunition for a perfect little water balloon to chuck on Junkrat's bed.

Perfect. He turned on his heel and started walking towards the medical lab. Mercy nearly always fell asleep while working late at her desk there with a bunch a papers and tests littered around her like they had been blown with a fan. Genji punched in a passcode on a keypad near the door of the lab once he arrived, and went inside. Rows of tables littered with specimens, vials, test tubes, and machines greeted his vision, and he found Mercy in the center of the room, sitting in an armchair by her desk and passed out with several papers on top of her head.

"Doctor?" Genji called out loudly, hoping that he wouldn't have to shake Mercy to wake her.

Angela stirred, the papers on her head falling to the floor in flurries. She rubbed her eyes and nearly fell out of her chair.

"Pumpkins...so delicious...Genji...so handsome..." She murmured from her dream, still half-asleep. Genji suddenly felt what remained of his face getting extremely red underneath his visor.

"Uh...Doctor Ziegler? I'm terribly sorry to wake you, but this is an emergency." His voice was shaking with embarrassment.

"Pumpkins...wha...huh? Genji? Ah! What are you doing here at this hour?" She finally snapped out of her stupor, actually falling out of her chair in surprise as she saw the cyborg standing not five feet from her, the green lights that lit up his body extra prominent against the dimness of the lab.

"I have come to you to elicit a favor. You have saved me once. Now, I beg that you do it again, if you are willing."

"What are you talking about, Genji? Is your cybernetic body failing?" She gasped with concern as she got up from the floor.

"My bladder and resolve are failing, actually. I fear that I have a tremendous load that has me on the verge of bursting, and that imbecile Junkrat has locked the door to the men's bathroom. I need you to use a needle of something to suck out all the pee from my bladder. If not, I fear that it will be much like D. Va's mech every time she initiates Self Destruct on it."

Angela just stared at him in utter disbelief and awkwardness. "Umm...okay...are you sure you have checked the door to the bathroom carefully?" She was clearly trying to get out of doing this for him.

"Yes. The door is definitely locked. I insist that you aid me. I promise to offer you my dessert at dinner every day the next week if you do. And I'll buy you that Valkyrie costume that you wanted last Halloween but that Winston said was too expensive. Help this dying cyborg out, and as an added favor, please store the urine you get out of me in several water balloons. I have a special surprise for that rat Junkrat. If you do, then you can scream "'Till Valhalla!" all you want in that glorious costume."

Mercy was seriously considering it, but she was interrupted by an alarm blaring near one of the tables. A human arm had broken out of its glass casing and was now rampaging across the table, shattering beakers and spilling chemicals everywhere. Genji shrieked with shock and fear, and his bladder almost relieved itself then and there.

Mercy spat, "Damn it! That thing has been the bane of me for two weeks. Ever since I engineered it as an experiment testing the potential of stem cells for limb regrowth, it has exhibited a terrible temper and a tendency to murder everything it can get its grubby fingers on. I really hope I get the formula right within the next month. Think if we could regrow any limbs we lost, without those limbs having minds of their own and strangling us? You might have benefited from this had it been perfected when I operated on you shortly after your confrontation with Hanzo, and Junkrat, Torbjörn, Symmetra, and McCree would all be able to get their lost limbs back! Only problem is, as you can see: stem cells tend to always want to grow into neurons more than any other cell, so that arm there has its own simple brain. A perpetually angry brain. If I can just suppress the neuronal matrices in the beta helix operons of the stem cells, they would only grow into the muscle, skin, and bone cells necessary for an arm. An arm that obeys a central brain without having its own insufferable ideas about everything-come here, you! You broke that like three times this week alone! Alright, if you don't get back in your case in three seconds, I am dumping an entire quart of Hydrochloric acid on you-NOT THE RESEARCH PAPERS, YOU BARBARIC, TWISTED PIECE OF LABORATORY HAZARADOUS WASTE, YOU BANE OF GLORIOUS MEDICAL ADVANCEMENT-"

Mercy was now fully awake and furious, brandishing a net and what looked like a rocket launcher at the writhing, squirming arm, trying to either capture it or blow it to pieces.

Genji got the feeling that the doctor had completely forgotten about his request. Still nursing his bloated bladder, he limped out of the lab before he himself was seriously injured by the ongoing battle between appendage and doctor, and left the frantic Mercy and her crazed, irate, detached arm behind. Great. Now, what was he going to do to relieve his load?

Maybe he could get Zenyatta to speak to the pee inside of him and persuade it to vaporize itself away? The robotic monk had managed to save his tortured soul and bring him enlightenment. Surely the omnic could do something as simple as lecture a gallon of pee into seeking heightened enlightenment as a vapor and leaving its sordid, Earthly form, a form that currently threatened to make Genji collapse with strain? Yes! That was bound to work!

Genji started running towards Zenyatta's room. As he neared his master's door, he could hear calm, soothing music from within. When he opened the door, he found his master hovering several feet above his mat (he had rejected a bed in favor of a decorative straw mat on which to sleep and meditate), meditating and humming the words of a chant. Music wafted from a small speaker near the mat. The omnic's room was filled with strange relics and heirlooms from his travels, and scrolls inscribed with teachings were neatly stacked on a table near his bed. Incense was burning from a wooden bowl next to Zenyatta, and he held several of his orbs in his hands. The many blue optics in the center of the robot's face were dim, but lit up immediately at the sight of Genji.

"My student? What brings you to disturb my meditation at this hour?" He inquired in a soft, mechanical voice.

"What brings you to meditate at this hour? I know omnics don't need to sleep, but still."

"The iris requires a clear mind at all times. I must maintain my hold upon it. What is it that you desire, Genji?"

"Well, my bladder is almost ready to burst in your face and fry your circuits with smelly pee, so it would be to the benefit of both of us if you administer some of your extreme wisdom to calm the turbulent liquid currently flowing like a stormy ocean inside of me. In the absence of a bathroom, I have failed to find another option with which to release my burden. I fear that my pee is currently undergoing an existential crisis with its putrid, unpleasant form on the world. It longs for something to relieve it from its misery and take it to a plane of higher existence. Surely your impressive persuasive power and intelligent teaching can coax the troubled pee into vaporizing from liquid into gas and finally achieving peace with itself and removing its burden on my bladder? You will save yourself from being utterly soaked as well, and I would be eternally grateful. I mean, more than I already am, since you saved my own sou-"

Genji was unable to finish, partly because he was hit in the face with a Discord Orb and partly because he was slapped across the same face with a metallic hand. The hand shoved him out of the room and slammed the door. Through the shut door, Genji could hear his master muttering a stream of omnic swear words under his breath.

So now what?

Perhaps Zarya could create a small shield and he could pee into this? The shield would hold the liquid so it did not spill anywhere, and when the bathroom was unlocked in the morning the Russian could simply dissolve the shield over a toilet, letting the pee fall in. It seemed like a great plan. He was not going to give up just yet.

He started walking to Zarya's quarters on the other side of the base.


	5. The Ninja's Burden (Part 2)

As Genji walked down to Zarya's room, he began to have second thoughts. But he once had given the Russian weightlifter an entire bottle of Vodka as a gift for shielding him during their last mission. Surely Zarya would do this small favor for him in return?

Hopes up, Genji hobbled to Zarya's door. There was no sound from within. So Genji opened the door slowly, taking care not to step on any of Zarya's precious workout DVDs she had littered across her floor.

He was immediately flattened by a wall of rock-hard muscle as he stepped into the room. He felt as if his visor had split open, and his sturdy cybernetic plates strained under the force of his attacker. A burly arm wrapped itself around his neck until he couldn't breathe. This was a mistake-

"INTRUDER IN MY-oh, it's you, Genji." Zarya breathed a sign of relief as she reliquished her headlock on the ninja. Genji collapsed to the floor, choking as he struggled to catch his breath and nursing his throbbing head and chest. He felt fortunate that the muscular woman had not done any more damage to him.

"I'm very sorry. Though I might ask what you are doing at this hour, coming in my room I awoke at once at the sound of sloshing water. I believed my sink was overflowing, but then I realized that the noise was coming from outside. Then, the door opened and I sprang into attack mode. Forgive me. Do you have a jug of water with you or something?"

"Well, I guess you could call it that. My bladder is currently bloated to its maximum capacity with urine. I beg for relief, relief that you can give me. The infernal creature called Junkrat has locked the men's bathroom door, so I have no way to pee. Please, help me. Grab your particle cannon and conjure up a shield. Allow me to relieve myself inside the force field so that my business is contained and does not spill elsewhere. When that pyromaniac wakes up in the morning, I will give him a sound beating and he will unlock the bathroom. At that time, you may deposit my pee inside the toilet, or have someone else do it for-"

He was cut off by a tremendous fist colliding with his left shoulder. He went flying, sprawling across the floor into a pile of clothes. Zarya was now reaching for the bar of a bench press she had in her room.

"Leave me, you vile, shameless imbecile! I will not be bothered by such disgusting and disgraceful banter from you. Asking me to utilize my particle cannon for such a disgusting favor for your oversized bladder is nothing short of disrespectful. Get out at once or I will show you exactly how strong I am." She brandished her bar menacingly. Disappointed and nursing a nearly-broken shoulder, Genji dashed out of the room.

He was almost at a loss for ideas when Zarya slammed the door behind him, and was about to give in to his bladder and let it all loose onto the floor, when he suddenly thought of a new way to relieve himself. Symmetra! She had a teleporter. She would simply have to position one teleporter near Genji, and another inside the bathroom! However, Genji was unsure of whether she could place one in the bathroom through the closed door or not. Still, it was worth a try.

The ninja limped to Symmetra's room, a short ways away from Zarya's. He was about to knock, but he found a groggy Symmetra already on her way out.

"uhhh...Genji! You're up at this time? What happened? I heard Zarya shouting and a lot of commotion in her room. Has there been an attack? Is she okay? Perhaps she just had a nightmare..."

"Of sorts." Genji said, not wanting to elaborate. "And she is fine now. No attack. I, however, am in trouble. I request only a simply favor from you to save me."

"What? Well, what is is, then?" Symmetra cried, very concerned.

"I need you to create a teleporter inside the men's bathroom. Can you operate through a locked door? 'Cause an unholy feral beast has locked the door, and I need to pee very badly. Place another teleporter here, so I may have access to the bathroom and relieve myself. I fear an explosion is imminent if I hold onto it any longer."

"Well, I'm sorry, but my ultimate is not charged yet. You'll have to stand there and let me shoot you several thousand times with my photon cannon for it to be ready. And I'm afraid that in any case, I cannot place a teleporter behind a locked door. I must be able to see the area I want to put it in."

"Thanks anyway. You reacted to my favor much better than Zarya and Zenyatta did.

"I can see. You still have the remnants of a Discord Orb hanging by your head, you know."

"Yes, I know."

Genji walked away and Symmetra went back into her room, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Genji had only one more idea left, and if this did not work, he was about to walk outside and pee into the bushes. He dearly hoped he wouldn't have to do that, as it was a last resort because the base had security cameras all around its outside perimeters. He could only imagine the ridicule he would get if his friends saw the footage...

So he raced down to Tracer's room, his heart hammering in his chest. Hopefully she would be willing and able to help him out...

Her chronal accelerator gave her the ability to travel through time. He hoped she could rewire it to sync with his time instead, and revert his state to a time before his bladder was full of liquid. That would be before he went to bed...

So he barged into her room, not having any patience left. A shriek greeted his ears.

"GOOD HEAVENS, LOVE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE? Heard about knocking first?!"

He was somewhat unsurprised to find the energetic woman still up at this time. There were days when Tracer did not sleep at all and he would be banging his head on his pillow, trying to stifle the noise of blaring pop music coming from her room and seriously considering if he should ask Mercy to remove the auditory sensors from his cybernetic head.

Some days she and D. Va would be living it up with her disco ball she kept hanging from her ceiling and the karaoke machine she had by her huge telescreen. Or she'd be playing video games with the Korean gamer, and the sounds of her rage quits against the pro would echo through the halls well into the night. Genji secretly reminded himself to ask Lena, under different circumstances, what she did to obtain all of her entertainment equipment. Genji himself only possessed a small, ancient game system called the Playstation from times long past and a telescreen with a broken volume button. He never dared to turn it on anymore because it had nearly shattered his visor and all the windows in his room the last time he had tried it.

Now, he was concerned about getting through his bladder's predicament alive. He faced her, seeing that she was sitting on her bed, eating something. Wait a minute. She was in the middle of eating a piece of chocolate cake. The very same cake that Roadhog had prepared for Hanzo as a celebration of his success on his most recent mission! Nobody else was allowed to eat it, but it had disappeared nevertheless and Hanzo had been incensed. Now, Genji would relish telling his brother who stole it. If that was not enough, littered across Tracer's bed was a myriad of the tastiest snacks the base had. Everyone had been wondering and grumbling for the past week about where they all had gone. Now, everything from brownies to caramel popcorn to sugar cookies were scattered here. Genji couldn't believe it. Tracer was hoarding all the delicious food meant for everyone, and secretly pigging out in her room at night! He was about to give her a piece of his metal mind when his bladder jiggled painfully. Genji sighed. He needed her help, and if he yelled at her now, she would not likely aid him. But once his bladder problem cleared up, he would give this sneaky little glutton the trouncing she deserved.

Tracer just looked at him with eyes filled with guilt.

"Ahh...well, that's why you knock...?" She was turning very red in the face and was shaking with fright as the furious Genji advanced upon her.

"I will deal with your selfish activities at a later time. I'll tell Winston for sure. You might want to have your blinks charged up to escape when he initiates Primal Rage on you for stealing his bananas and peanut butter. And I don't envy you when you have to face Roadhog's wrath for hoarding all his favorite corn chips here in your room, and I fear for your life when I tell Hanzo who it was who stole his precious cake. I believe Mercy's nutrition bars are also here? You know that blaster of hers, although small, packs quite a punch.

Tracer buried her face in her hands. "I'm so dead...they're all going to kill me, Genji, including you...I was just sick and tired of the fact that everybody kept eating my favorite snacks before I got to. So I decided to take...a few...for myself..."

"A FEW?!" Genji felt his visor light up with rage, and his remaining veins were throbbing with barely suppressed fury. He kept telling himself to remain calm because he needed to ask for a favor from Tracer, but his temper was threatening to overcome the needs of his bladder.

Tracer cowered under Genji's rage, whimpering in fear. "I-I'm so sorry, love! I-I'll give it all back! Just don't tell the rest of them...I don't want to be hit on the face with a concussive mine! Please, Genji! Forgive me and don't tell..."

Genji was about to scream at her even more, but he had a better idea. He could use her desperation to his advantage. He would bribe her. If she could help him relieve his bladder of its burden, he would not tell a soul about her gluttonous tendencies.

"I will not tell anybody, under one condition. You must help me. My bladder is threatening to overflow onto your floor right now. Junkrat locked the bathroom door and I have had no success in finding an alternative method to relieve myself. You are my last hope. Change your accelerator to sync with my time and rewind to a time before my bladder was full. I'm thinking at 9:00 P.M. just before I went to bed this night."

"Uhhh.." Lena got down from her bed and ripped her earbuds out of her ears. She glanced down at her accelerator. "Well, love, I'm afraid I can't do that. See, this thing needs to be worn at all times, or I'll disappear again. Winston said that it has to stay in contact with my body to hold me in time. And that also means I can't reprogram it to sync to your time, because then I'll disappear. Plus, I don't know how it works, so I can't do much to change it. Winston would be more of a help, but I think you're better off waiting until morning when Junkrat unlocks the bathroom again than tasking Winston with making you your own accelerator to rewind the state of your bladder. Though I do have something I can try..."

"What is that?" Genji asked, still hopeful.

"Winston gave me a portable time anchor, in case my accelerator got damaged in battle or something. It's basically an emergency backup accelerator. I would have to attach it to my body and it would keep me from fading from existence for about an hour. In that time I would have to get back to Winston so he could repair my main accelerator. I can still blink and rewind with the portable one, but then I'd significantly reduce the time it would be able to run and anchor me. However, as we're not in an emergency now, I could attach it to you and rewind your state to 9:00 P.M. I sure hope it has enough charge in it to go back that far in time..."

"Amazing! Real lifesavers, you and Winston are! Attach it to me!" Genji exclaimed in happiness and relief.

"Yeah, though I'm not sure-"

"Just do it, or you'll find your game systems all stabbed apart in a few seconds, and you'll have more that my wrath to deal with when I tell everyone-"

"Ok! Ok! Right away!" Tracer screeched as she rummaged frantically through her cabinets before pulling out what looked like a flash drive with blue, glowing plasma tendrils inside. They pulsated and snaked this way and that, and made it look like there was a lightening storm going on inside the peculiar device.

"Try to stay still. This won't hurt. I think."

"Don't be too rough!"

"I won't! Unlike me, this is your first time, so I'll be careful for ya."

"I have had no experience with this."

"It's fine! It'll feel great, I've always enjoyed the sensation."

"I'm so nervous about this, but I really have no choice at this point."

"Yeah, unless you think you can go all night without peeing?"

At this point both of them realizing how their conversation would have sounded if someone was unaware of what was actually going on in the room and had just been eavesdropping outside the door.

The next moment, D. Va burst in the room with a camera and a kazoo. Blowing on it hard and sending an obnoxious noise throughout the base, she raised the camera and snapped several dozen pictures of Genji and Tracer.

"OH, THIS IS PRIME BLACKMAIL MATERIAL! I'LL HAVE YOUR DISCO BALL AND STASH OF CHIPS FOR A WEEK NOW, TRACER! AND I'LL GET TO PLAY WITH YOUR SWORD WHENEVER I WANT, GEN-" Huh? She noticed that the two of them were not doing what she thought they were.

"What are you two doing?" She asked, disappointed that she could no longer blackmail them.

"I'm helping him with a urination problem." Tracer said in an unamused voice, glaring at D. Va.

"Wha-no, it's not like that, D. Va!" Genji burst out, as D. Va snorted with laughter.

"Guess I could just tell everybody about this, Genji, unless you give me your sword whenever I want it and buy me that new shooter game that's coming out next week. I've got blackmail material after all!" She pranced around, jumping with glee.

"What Tracer meant is that we were conducting important tests on her backup accelerator before you barged in like a bumbling elephant. There is nothing wrong with my urination." Genji stressed, giving Tracer a look that told her that if she did not go along with his story, she was going to have to explain her private snack hoard to everyone on base. Unfortunately, that look did not pass through his visor.

"No, Genji was asking me for help because he couldn't find a place to pee. The bathroom is locked and I'm trying to reverse his time to a state before his bladder looked like Roadhog's belly." Tracer maintained.

Genji wanted to strangle her. D. Va made a disgusted face.

"Never mind, this is crappy blackmail stuff. Nobody is going to care if I tell them you couldn't find a bathroom. I was thinking that you were having problems peeing because of a deformed-"

"That's enough, Hana. Go back to your room. Why are you even up this late?" Genji snapped.

"Games, of course. And bye." She left the room, but not before taking one of Tracer's stolen brownies.

"Is she in on your little food stash here?" Genji inquired as Tracer fiddled with the backup accelerator.

"Yeah. So you can blame her, too."

Tracer finally placed the device on Genji's arm. Instantly, he felt lightheaded, and his blood seemed to be boiling under his cybernetic skin. Yet, there was no pain, only a crawling sensation. Most importantly, he felt as if his bladder was depleting itself at a tremendous rate. It was working! But before the bladder was completely empty, the sensations all stopped and the device fell off, beeping and flashing red lights.

"Oh, so it can't go back that far. But you should feel a lot better now that most of the pee is out of ya." Tracer put away the device and laid back down on her bed.

"I helped, so can you keep your end of the deal and not tell anyone? Besides D. Va, of course."

"Very well. Thank you for saving my life." Genji felt immensely better, even though he still had a little pee inside of him. He sighed. Finally, this nightmare was over. He vowed that when Junkrat got up in the morning to unlock the bathroom door, the wiry man would not have a very pleasant experience with the ninja.


	6. The Reaper's Story

Gabriel Reyes, his real name before he had adopted his new persona, had been inducted into Talon after generals in the U.S. Army had noticed his remarkable skill and determination when he was a soldier in the army.

The government had offered to enhance his abilities with a new serum. They had explained that it was a super soldier formula designed to alter the cells of soldiers so that they would be more effective, resilient, and dangerous on the battlefield. They had told him that the chemical would alter the DNA of his cells to transform them into a gaseous, immaterial state that would allow him to pass through solid objects, quickly heal from wounds and damages, teleport to anywhere in his field of vision, and become invulnerable to everything for a short time. The serum would also enhance his reflexes, endurance, and strength to superhuman levels. The only condition they had asked of him was that he join the covert anti-terrorist defense organization of the U.S. government, Talon.

Every other promising soldier who was offered the super soldier treatment had denied it once told what the side effects could be. But Gabriel had decided to be the first person to achieve a new standard of power, no matter what he had to endure to obtain it. He had always wanted to change the world, to rid it of the terrorism that left innocents burning under the wreckage of bombs in the street and the evil that left children crying out for their dead mothers amidst the dust thrown up by grenades and missiles. There was only so much an ordinary soldier could do to right the wrongs of the world. He had to become extraordinary to truly make a difference and send his foes running to the ends of the Earth. So he had consented to receiving the serum.

Once they had strapped him down to the bed and told him that the pain was going to be nothing like he had ever imagined before, he could only imagine one face as he was forced to endure what came next, bawling in agony as needles pierced flesh and bone and an immeasurable amount of searing chemical liquid forced its way into his every vein and artery, with nothing but the indifferent, cold, and calculating Talon scientists for company.

The face of Widowmaker. The spider had crawled into his life as Amélie Lacroix when they met on the army. A sniper, she, like him, was the best of her division. By the time they met, she, again like he, already had an impressive list of kills and completed missions under her belt. She had helped assassinate more than forty terrorists and criminals for the army.

Gabriel and Amélie had become fast friends, her sarcastic, dark humor and serious demeanor complimenting his own rough attitude and rugged personality. He remembered how his first impression of her was of a spider, by the graceful yet frighteningly precise way she moved, as if she was a patient arachnid creeping towards an oblivious insect. He recalled numerous nights of sharing combat stories with each other by the campfire, roasting marshmallows that Amélie had stolen from the commander's private cabin (everyone but he was expected to subside on the MREs, save during holidays or special occasions for celebration). They had laughed together and grew to even love each other.

At first the fondness they had for each other manifested itself in a brother/sister sort of way. They were companions on the battlefield and off, allies who watched each other's backs and shared jokes, fellow soldiers. Amélie admired Reaper's bravery and strength in battle like one fighter respects another. Gabriel in turn always sought to make sure Amélie's flank was covered when she scoped in for a kill and rendered herself vulnerable to ambush. They would have taken bullets for each other, but it was still only close friendship and battlefield trust they had for each other, nothing more.

But soon, that wasn't enough for Gabriel. Reaper remembered his thoughts during those days, desperately longing for there to be something more between him and Amélie. He would make the slightest movements and the most subtle of hints when he was with her, trying to imply his feelings. He'd snuggle close to her while they were alone together talking about the latest battle late at night. He would hold her hand, if only for a second, before she went away on a mission that he was not assigned to, softly telling her to be safe. He would whisper songs into her ear when she fell asleep on his shoulder all those nights following tiring and stressful missions wrought with danger and near-death situations, even though he knew she could not possibly hear him.

But the spider would not bite. He hated the friendzone pit into which he had been thrown, for there was nothing that he wanted more than to finally kiss those perfect lips.

It was during the last leg of his journey in the army when she finally took the hint. On a routine training exercise they were practicing with some other soldiers, Gabriel had found himself in a bad position with the "enemy" team nearly on top of him. Just like in countless times in the past, Amélie came to his rescue, landing stunning rounds on each of the attacking men that came for Gabriel with expert shots from her rifle. As the men stirred and groaned from the ground, unharmed because the stunning shots were not meant to inflict lasting damage, Amélie swung up to Gabriel with her trusty grappling hook, her rifle in hand.

"That was a close one, no?"

"Too close. Once again, I owe you. If you were the forgiving type, I might ask that my debt be forgiven."

"Please, _chérie_ , you know I'm going to remember every instance that you needed me to clean up your mess."

"I may be messy, but I get things done."

"You mean almost get yourself killed. Multiple times, too. During the same mission, I might add. You are a foolish one, no matter how admirable your skills are in battle."

"Foolish or not, you love me." Gabriel decided to hint at it again, his hopes still there, although weak.

" _Oui_ , and I would have ample opportunity to take full advantage of that if you were not bothering yourself with killing every person in sight every chance you get. Still, even a busy man like yourself needs to relax once in a while..." She moved in, and before Gabriel knew it, he was intertwined with her slim body and kissing her passionately on the lips...the glorious moment seemed to last forever...he hoped that it would never end...

"Well, I can say that _none_ of us have seen this coming." A disgruntled "enemy" muttered with a voice dripping with sarcasm as he got up from the floor and nursed his shoulder, where Amélie had shot him with her stun round.

"Yeah, it's not like you're simpering and drooling over her every time you see her, Gabe. I was beginning to wonder when you'd pop the question." Another soldier grumbled as he nursed his knee.

"He's probably got a grenade ring stashed under his bed, waiting to give to her." A third chuckled, massaging his back.

"Or a plastic ring he got from your kid's birthday party. It's not like he can afford more than that." A fourth called to the third, rubbing his right thigh.

"Well, you never know, maybe ol' Gabe's got himself a job at a local bakery or something. Just imagine: "Would you folks like some buckshot with your Italian Loaf?" The sixth and final soldier groaned, nursing an area of his anatomy that Gabriel planned to use on Amélie later that night. There was scattered laughter at the soldier's joke.

"You morons are just pissed 'cause you got beaten by this glorious woman who is more beautiful than anybody you lot will ever get." Gabriel hissed.

"Woah! Gabe, are you forgetting that I've got a perfectly great wife?"

"Me too, you virgin. You don't have anybody yet, 'cause watch this just be a prank and Amélie laughs in your face and leaves you. I'd be the weakest man alive if that happened, even weaker than you were when I was spotting for you on the bench press last we-" The soldier was hit on the face, not entirely accidentally, by one of Gabriel's heavy shotguns.

"Let's get out of here before someone gets messed up even more than he is now." Gabriel said to Amélie. Wearing an amused expression, she nodded.

"Yo, Gabe!" The man he had thrown his shotgun at called out as he left the training area with his new lover, "Tomorrow at six still? Rogers' house? I've got a new controller I'm dying to use-"

"Yeah!" Gabriel shouted back. "Just get ready to get destroyed by my Meta Knight! My Super Smash Bros skills are still unmatched!"

"Not so! Smithson beat you into the virtual dust last time we all played, remember? You kept falling off of the stage due to your own clumsiness and lack of skill, while he just stood there and spammed lasers with deadly accuracy-"

"THAT WAS UNFAIR AND HE WAS USING AN OVERPOWERED CHARACTER! MY SKILL IS AUTHENTIC AND IT ALMOST MATCHES THE GREAT HANA SONG'S!"

"Oh really? So you can win four international Starcraft tournaments in a row? You can't even beat my eight year old son in casual Smash play!"

Snorting in annoyance, Gabriel left Maxwell and the rest of the men, going towards the barracks with Amélie.

In the two years following this experience, before he was offered to undergo the serum treatment and his subsequent transformation, Gabriel spent much of his time with Amélie. They would talk together, eat together, sleep together...Gabriel had particularly enjoyed the sleeping part...she always would sneak into his room late at night from her own chambers with the rest of the women...but then, his commander had come to him one day with the information and news of the new Soldier Enhancement Program the U.S. army was implementing, and how he'd been selected to be genetically enhanced by the program to become an elite operative at the anti-terrorist organization Talon, due to his success and skill in the army. He had asked if Amélie could also be a part of this. The general had conferred with his superiors before telling Gabriel that Amélie's skill and achievements in the army made her more than worthy to join Gabriel at Talon, but that they were unsure of what enhancements she could have.

Gabriel had talked it over with her, and she had expressed her interest in joining him at Talon and working to undermine terrorist organizations. She had not cared that they didn't have anything to enhance her abilities.

"One shot, one kill. What need is there for further improvement upon that?" She had resolutely boasted.

A week later, the two of them were packing their bags, saying goodbyes to their friends in the army (Gabriel thinking that he would miss those Smash competitions he had with his fellow soldiers) and boarding a sleek airship to Talon's main headquarters. After a week of touring and getting used to the way Talon did things, he was strapped down to that bed and injected with the serum that would change his life forever. He remembered Amélie's last words to him as he had followed the stern doctors into the sterile room:

" _Être fort._ Be strong. You will become a soldier of legends. A warrior without match. And no matter what happens, you will always be my Gabriel."

He had tried to be strong for her, and it had almost been too much for him. The pain had him begging for death, but he still held on for Amélie. He knew what it would do to her if he gave up and succumbed to the serum instead of overcoming the agony and letting the chemical strengthen him. So he managed to fight through it all.

But once he saw what he had become when they had finished, once he first looked down at his body only to see a swirling mass of black dust, once he looked into the overhead mirror the doctors set up for him and saw a monster looking back - he had wished he had just let death take him.

Amélie would never love him again once she saw his hideous, terrifying appearance. With his newfound abilities, he would excel at his missions at Talon, but he could not be with Amélie anymore. He could never be with anyone, the way he was now.

His grief had followed him as he drifted out of that room, wearing a new mask and a black cloak that they had given him. Amélie just stared as she gazed at his ethereal, demonic form. Wordlessly, she had backed away. Gabriel called her name,

"Amélie? It's me. I know, it's terrible. I should have-" But his voice came out as a raspy, deep growl that made him sound like he was blaming or threatening her. He guessed that from now on, his voice was going to be used to do those two things quite a lot, and little else. At any rate, he wanted to apologize, do anything to assure Amélie that all was going to be well, even though he knew that was not the case.

"Wha-what have they _done_ to you, my love?" Exclaimed Amélie. Even through the menacing eye holes of his mask, Gabriel could see tears of fear and anguish in her eyes.

"I don't know. All I know is that they weren't exaggerating when they explained those side effects."

"But-you-" She stammered, walking up to him to embrace him. He gave a shout of surprise. The thin arms that he had become so accustomed to when they wrapped themselves around him now passed cleanly through his midsection with a swirl of shadowy smoke.

"I can't touch you! Gabe, I can't-"

"I know." He could do nothing to reassure her. They both knew how bad it was. Sure, the serum might have made him into an unstoppable force on the battlefield that would strike down terrorists and criminals alike, but it had come at a terrible price. He had wanted to better the world. To make a difference. Now he would do that, but what difference did it make if he could not cherish it with Amélie?

"I know." Amélie's eyes suddenly burned with determination. "I can fix this! I can fix you, Gabe. I think I have a way to reverse the side effects of the serum without destroying the benefits it has given you. You will still have superhuman strength and the other abilities, but you won't be-"

"What are you saying?" Gabriel's heart experienced a tiny flutter of hope.

"In the lab I passed earlier, they were experimenting with primates. I observed their activities for a while through the glass, and it looked like they were testing a chemical that would give the apes increased intelligence. However, it also seemed to increase their aggressive tendencies. When provoked, even accidentally, the gorillas would suddenly turn a bright red color and their eyes would flicker with what looked like electricity. I had trouble hearing through the glass, but the panicked scientists said something about "Primal Rage"...but then, another scientist came in and sprayed a blue mist all over the angry ones, and they reverted back to normal. However, each ape still seemed to show heightened intelligence, and one even typed up something on a computer they had given it. It looked like a program; the primate had named it" "Athena." Best of all, when the scientists tested their aggression again and provoked them, none of the primates experienced Primal Rage again. See, I believe this blue mist, whatever it is, can eliminate the most glaring side effects from chemicals without interfering with their core benefits on the subject. I will try to ask them for further details on it, and if it can be used on you."

"Sounds like a plan." Gabriel said, hoping with all his heart that Amélie was right about the mist, and that they would allow it to be applied onto him.

"Let me see you." Amélie suddenly inquired, peering intensely into the empty eyes of his mask. He knew she could see nothing but darkness behind it. She reached up and carefully removed the mask from Gabriel's face.

To this day, Gabriel Reyes still remembers the scream that followed.

Amélie's request about the blue mist substance was denied. The scientists had told her, not untruthfully, that it was not cleared to be used on human subjects, and could have plenty of unknown side effects of its own. Plus, they were not even sure it would suppress Gabriel's side effects like it had done the apes'. They suggested that she and Gabriel get accustomed to the way he was now, and mentioned that he was going to be better in almost every way. But both Amélie and Gabriel knew that he was not better.

He was far worse.

He had lain in his new quarters at Talon that night with his mask on, partly because he did not wish to alarm any people in the halls with his appearance and partly because he was ashamed himself at what he allowed himself to become. He should have taken a hint when told that he was the first to consent to the treatment. Nobody else had been as idiotic as he. Still, he had not expected the side effects to be this severe...

He thought about his old life in the army. His training. His missions. His many nights spent with good friends in front of the telescreen watching old movies or comedy shows. And most importantly of all, Amélie. This brought an almost unbearable pang to his chest. The jokes they had shared, the times they had saved each other's skins in battle and laughed about it afterwards, the nights they had spent in each other's arms. He could still remember the soft, cool feel of her lips when they touched his the first time two years ago.

Those times were gone, never to return, and his old self was gone with them. He only wished that Amélie would never suffer the same fate that he had suffered.

But his wish was not to be granted.

He awoke to the blaring of alarms. He had slept early, as he had felt too terrible to stay awake for long. Now, looking at the clock on his wall, it was 1:30 in the morning. What the hell could have happened at this hour-

"GET MED SQUAD SIX HERE WITH THOSE NANOBOTS! WE CAN'T LET HER SLIP INTO UNCONSCOUSNESS!" A red-faced doctor in a lab coat roared as he sprinted down the hall with vials of fluids tucked under his arms. Several medical droids followed, pushing a gurney.

"Calling all medical personnel to the primate research lab. There has been a breach in the experimental substances chamber." The intercom came in on a speaker in Gabriel's room.

He saw more people running frantically down the hall past his room, all looking fearful and like they were dreading the worst. Gabriel gave a shiver. If someone had broken into the experimental substances room of the place that possessed substances that turned men into what he was now, this could turn out ugly. He decided that he had best make the most of what he had become, and check out the situation himself. Time to see if those powerful abilities are as potent as those side effects...

He drifted out of his bed and pulled on his black cloak. On his counter he saw a brand-new pair of short-barreled shotguns laid out for him. Perfect. He grabbed the weapons and pushed his door open, staggering into the hallway as he was almost beheaded with another scientist as he ran down to the lab, followed by several burly security guards. Gabriel drifted swiftly after them. Behind him, more people were running.

"What happened?" A male voice frantically called out.

"Breach in the primate lab. That's all I heard. I swear, if the intruder got into one of those chemicals they have stashed there-"

"I heard from someone that it was a woman. The intruder."

"Do they know who she is yet?"

"No idea. But they said that she seemed to have gotten into the lab from the high windows with something that resembled a grappling hook."

Gabriel froze in his shadowy tracks. The two men behind him who were talking almost collided with him. They gave loud shouts of fear when they noticed him for the first time, in all his horrific glory.

"Goodness, what happened to you-"

"THAT WOMAN." The man who had mentioned the grappling hook found himself scrabbling at Gabriel's strong fingers around his neck, the shadowy man's metal gauntlets digging into his skin. Gabriel felt as if his heart had exploded with dread and terror. "WHAT ELSE DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HER?"

"I-I don't know anything else, man! Please let me go-let's get down there and find out!" The man exclaimed in shock and fear.

Gabriel let him go. By the time the spluttering man had caught his breath and finished massaging his throat, Gabriel was far gone.

* * *

What was she thinking, breaking into the facility a mere week after she and Gabriel had been accepted into Talon? She would surely be sent straight back to the army after this. She would be taken from Gabriel-but it didn't matter if Gabe was able to return to normal, without the hideous features that now marred his body and face. She still had the image of his face when she went to remove his mask in her head. The hollow, bloodshot eyes with blurry irises, the sickly, black skin flaked and covered with repulsive black mist, the festering flesh and cracked bone bloodied and sizzling with smoke.

This was not what Gabriel wanted, no matter what they said he would gain from it. But she knew he was still the same person inside. The way he had spoken to her when she had first seen him, the soft, loving gaze he had given her despite her horror when she had lifted up his mask...but he hated what he had become, she could see it. Although she still loved him, she wished for nothing better than for a miracle to return him to the Gabe he was before. A miracle that would allow him to retain his newly-acquired abilities without the side effects...

So she had to. In fact, she had made her decision the second the researchers she had asked for the blue mist said no. But she was not going to settle for that; she knew Gabe could never live with himself in his current state, and the mist might just be the answer.

So she had waited until everyone was asleep, and had silently crept out of her quarters with the well-practiced stealth that she had utilized and polished in her years in the army. She had made her way to the lab with the primates, taken out the guards with tranquilizer darts with a silencer on her rifle, and proceeded to break into the lab and its chemical storage room.

Amélie knew it was a mistake the instant she grabbed the can that was filled to the brim with a bluish gas. She had used her rifle as a crowbar to get into the armored door of the chemicals storage room of the primate lab, after shooting out the topmost windows of the lab and firing her grappling hook into the room to pull her into it.

Instantly, the can's lights glowed a deep red when she touched it, as if it knew that someone unauthorized was about to steal its contents. The canister suddenly emitted a high-pitched drone that shattered Amélie's concentration and eardrums, sending her to the floor in shock. She dropped the can and it rolled away from her underneath a heavy storage case filled with dangerous-looking acids. Her ears still ringing, she tried reaching for the can, thinking that she needed to make a speedy getaway before security and scientists came to investigate. No doubt that noise had woken everybody in a ten-mile radius, even though it was still shortly past one in the morning. Amélie found that her arms and legs were not nearly long enough to reach the can, and she decided that moving the storage case was far too risky judging by the fact that it was loaded with chemicals that she knew would make her visit to the lab a lot less pleasant if they came into contact with her and broke from their containers.

But there was a metal bar attached to the floor a ways away. She could shoot it apart from the ground and use it to reach the can! She seized her rifle and changed the rounds to real bullets. She then aimed down at the floor at the base of the metal bar, hoping to break it from it's embedded position in the ground.

Just like she had done numerous times in the past, Amélie scoped in, taking careful aim. She pressed the trigger, the crack of the gun muffled by the silencer.

Although her sniper rifle was strong enough to penetrate metal, the bar must have been made from an extra-reinforced variety, or a different, stronger material altogether. The bullet did not so much as make a nick on the bar, and the bar remained embedded into the floor.

Amélie swore and looked around for another option, her fingers clammy with sweat from the anxiety that armored soldiers were going to barge in on her and arrest her at any moment.

She was so worried and frantic that she did not noticed the loud hissing sound that was filling the room. It was not until she felt the cold, numbing mist did she realize what had happened. She dived down to survey the canister underneath the storage case. It was lying on its side the way it had been before, but now it was split open with a tremendous hole. The bluish mist was currently generously flowing out from this breach, quickly spreading up from the sides of the storage case and up into the room. The can must have been highly compressed, because there was much more mist inside than Amélie had expected.

She screamed in anger and frustration. Of course her bullet had decided to ricochet perfectly underneath the case and hit the one thing that she had needed to remain unharmed and unopened. The mist that would potentially bring Gabe back was now leaking out by the second, filling the room and chilling her skin when she grazed it.

Nearly crying with her frustration and defeat, she grabbed her grappling hook and tried to get out the way she had come, but she suddenly felt as if she couldn't move.

An almost serene feeling came upon her. She felt as if there was not a care in the world. Her concern about Gabe, her anguish about losing the valuable mist, and her fear about getting caught now seemed weak, even nonexistent. The strangest thing was that she no longer could bring her mind to feel those emotions anymore, no matter how hard she tried...

The mist continued to fill the room, enveloping around her. Her skin now felt so cold she thought it was going to freeze solid, and she was sure that many of her organs had turned into ice cubes. She was still immobile, and her vision was starting to get foggy. The pounding in her head and her rapid heartbeat slowed and eventually seemed to stop. Perhaps the cold was freezing them, too...she could not think anymore...her memories flew by in her head as if they were vague remnants of another lifetime. Soon, she could recall nothing anymore. She didn't even remember why she was here. What was she doing? What had been her purpose? Where even was she? _Who_ was she? All she knew was the gas and the constant, soothing hiss it emitted as it continued to leak from the canister. The cold was part of her now; she embraced it with her entire body...it was so calming...so relaxing...

* * *

Gabriel dashed into the primate lab, ignoring the two guards who tried to stop him as he entered the chaotic room. Science equipment was scattered everywhere as doctors and researchers hurried about, shouting orders and lugging equipment. Near the door to the experimental substances chamber, he saw six doctors pushing a gurney with a woman strapped on it. Amélie...

He lunged forward, black smoke billowing furiously out from under him. The doctors gave cries of fear when he approached them.

"Let me see her." He commanded, giving the nearest an intimidating glance. She stood her ground, her blonde hair falling onto her shoulders.

"Absolutely not. There is no time. Right now, we need to get her to the intensive care unit. She may even need surgery. Her heart rate is almost nonexistent and her organs are also working at an extremely slow rate. If we can't get her stabilized and revived in the next five minutes, she will die."

Gabriel read the name tag on her lab coat: Dr. Angela Ziegler. Staring into her fierce blue eyes with his dark ones, he begged,

"Just for a moment. She means everything to me." He shocked himself with his softness and honesty to this doctor he didn't even know. It would have been easy to roughly push her and the rest of her team aside to get a good look at Amélie.

Dr. Ziegler was also surprised at the emotion and desperation in his voice. Her face was conflicted for a moment, before she relented.

"Only for a single second. Then, we must transfer her to the medical room."

Gabriel bent down to get his first good look at Amélie.

He was only glad that she was unable to hear his own scream.

* * *

Missions. Days passed in a blur of shotgun rounds and black smoke. He quickly advanced through the ranks of Talon, his enhanced abilities and formidable skill making him one of the best agents on the field. He now had his own squadrons to command, and his own orders to give.

He murdered terrorists without remorse or hesitation. He shut criminals down with ease and brutal efficiency. He was feared by both allies and enemies alike, but respect was something they all had for him as well. A man who had been willing to risk it all, to go through unimaginable pain to alter his body, so that he could become something great for the sake of the nation and world. Few could match his ferocity and fury on the battlefield. He indeed was changing the world for the better, just like he always had wished.

But the serum had changed him as well. He no longer could feel the positive and pleasant emotions of the world. His mind had been darkened, just like his body had, and was indifferent to the beauties of the world now. The chemical and its side effects had made him into something that could never feel anything as compassionate and soft as love and kindness. He was a soulless, formless, nameless shadow now, a merciless killing machine that did nothing but destroy and felt nothing but loathing and hatred for the enemy. The only happiness he experienced now was when he landed a killing blow on an enemy. Blood was his friend. War was his companion. Death was his ally.

Amélie was nothing more than a ghost to him now that he could no longer feel love for her. He saw her in the dimly lit halls of Talon sometimes, and they would exchange only nods, sometimes nothing at all. She had her missions, and he was busy enough with his. The mist that she had come into contact that night when she tried to steal it for him had changed her into something that was like him. Ice-cold blood flowed under frigid, purple skin, and her heart was as unfeeling and cold as it was slow. Her reflexes, strength, endurance, and focus were all improved greatly, but she, like he, could no longer feel much of anything.

She remembered nothing from before her incident in that lab. When the doctors revived her, she could not even remember his name, nor anything he had to do with her.

All she knew now was Talon and the missions they assigned to her. She had also become one of the best agents, reliably assassinating important targets again and again with her sniping skills.

But she would never kiss him again. Never speak to him with the care she had before. And he didn't care.

He could never bring himself to love her anymore, anyway. Better she mind her own business now and let him work.

Sometimes he asked himself what exactly it was that he did besides kill. What else was there to him? He realized he didn't need an answer. The deaths of his enemies were the only things that concerned him. Everything else had been taken away.

He was nothing but the ghost of death. The collector of souls. The Reaper.


	7. A Hopeless World

There was no color. Only smoke. The grey, dense smoke that spiraled over the rooftops as the buildings underneath collapsed with flame. The black, choking smoke that always followed the Omnic vehicles as they rumbled through the streets, murdering any stray humans out after the early curfew in the cities. Even the buildings were grey, either modified with intrusive metal parts from the robots or darkened with soot and grime. And of course there were the machines themselves, as grey as storm clouds. Seeing the dull luster of their metal usually meant death, and very soon. And there were screams. Screams sometimes begging for mercy, sometimes begging for death to be freed from this dreadful reality. Screams that would cut to the souls and hearts of any human who heard them.

But most of what was left in the world was not human. The Omnics had no hearts to soften, no souls to feel. Whatever sentience they thought they had was nothing more than the result of few wires strung intelligently across pistons, metal plates, and cooling systems. They were empty, cold computers with no regard for human life. They were as dangerous as the vicious machine guns their Bastion units used to mow down hoards of people until even the windows of nearby shops were coated with red and the contents on display could no longer be seen behind the canvas of blood.

Lena had known the machines her entire life, had seen all the hatred they expressed towards humanity and the violence and brutality they brought to people under their rule of the Earth. But never had her hatred for those that had taken over her world been this strong. Never had she wanted them all deactivated and pounded into a pulp of circuits and processors so badly. Because they had taken the only thing that she had left. Her last companion in this sea of violence and evil.

They had killed him.

She thought back to a few weeks before his death. Omnics had just raided their human resistance outpost, and the two of them had barely escaped with their lives. Carrying a burnt shoulder and several large gashes, Lena would have been destroyed by the machines had it not been for him.

He had dragged her outside the outpost just before the sounds of slaughter echoed through the halls. She had wanted to go back in to help. She had pleaded and screamed at him, saying that the two of them could not just let the rest of the outpost's residents all die. But he had been adamant that there were too many of the machines for there to be any hope for their fellow humans inside, and that they could only secure their own deaths by going back. Their friends and allies whom they had both grown to love fell in a deadly rain of bullets and bombs. Many times they had saved her life. But when it mattered the most, she could not do anything for them.

She remembered her grief and the days that followed. She and her companion constantly moved from city to city, hiding out in the shadows and secluded areas to avoid being detected by the vigilant robotic sensors that swept the streets. They were wanted fugitives, as the Omnics had found out that they had been part of the resistance and had escaped. The only times when she stopped mourning the loss of their friends was when they were in immediate danger from Omnics, but they had always managed to get away unscathed, thanks to his well-practiced combat instincts.

Those, along with his trusty pulse rifle, provided the support she needed then. Not to mention his coarse voice, devoid of fear, and confident, courageous attitude that never wavered, no matter how grim things seemed. She had only wished she could be as strong as he was. She had considered him a guardian, even a father to her.

But soon after they escaped the outpost, the Omnics managed to finally corner them for good in a small alleyway. It was pouring and thundering, and the sky was as grey as the machines' metal as the Omnics advanced upon them, weapons drawn and poised to fire. They had been exhausted from several close calls with Omnics earlier that day, and, in their fatigue, had chosen a less-than-safe area out in the open to sleep.

It had been her decision to camp there for that night. He had paid the price for it.

She remembered how he had looked at her, the dull glow of his red visor conveying determination more than a pair of human eyes ever could. Her own were filled with tears of hopelessness, as the machines prepared to end them once and for all. She had stared back at him, hoping that the his protective red gaze would be the last thing she would see.

In a way, she had almost wanted it to end. The Omnics owned the world now, and the humans who were left merely existed as pathetic remnants of a once peaceful and glorious time, until the Omnics tracked them down and rooted them out too.

She finally understood why many of the screams she had heard at night of those about to be obliterated by the the machines were begging to be taken instead of to be spared. It was to end their miserable existence. There was no point in staying alive anymore if you didn't see in binary.

So she stared at her companion as the machines advanced upon them, embraced him, and intended to never let go until the world was no more to both of them. They could take her life; she almost welcomed it - but they could not take him, her last ally and friend, from her. But they did.

A second before the machines fired, he told her to run. She was shocked that he could still have hope for escape even when death was inevitable. She had been unable to move an inch, thinking that it was all lost, whatever he thought. But he would not have that. Before she could even so much as say goodbye to him, he had shoved her away from him. She had sailed right through the surrounding Omnics. Before the robots had a chance to assess the new situation and chase after her, he had activated his helix rockets, obliterating an entire group of Omnics and knocking the robots back. She was about to rush in and help, her ears still ringing and throbbing from the blast of sound that resonated from the detonation of his rockets, but he then had roared for her to save herself and blink away from the machines, but she was not going to leave him...

Then, everything had seemed to go in slow motion. She had replayed the events in her head hundreds of times since his death, each time more painful than the last. But it never changed anything.

Just before she had a chance to gather her focus and jump into the battle, she saw a lone figure standing near the fray, unmoving and observing, with raindrops cascading off of its body.

Glowing green lights speckled the robot's carbon-fiber, greyish-white body. Unlike the other Omnics Lena had seen, with their rough designs and crude-looking metallic parts, this Omnic was a sleek and streamlined humanoid, as if it were a more advanced model. Its face was accented with a smooth, green optic visor, smaller than the red one of her companion. It bore a sheathed sword on its back. Every artificial fiber of its body had given Lena the feeling that this Omnic was far more dangerous than any other robot she had encountered.

When it moved, a flurry of green light, Lena had almost failed to see it. It was a blur, but a calculated, deadly blur. It had moved with the agility, speed, and discipline of a trained martial artist or a ninja. With delicate and precise movements, combined with the power its robotic body gave it, the Omnic had quickly dodged the crossfire going on between her companion and the other Omnics and closed the gap between the soldier and it.

Lena didn't see the sword being unsheathed, nor did she glimpse the nanosecond during which it whispered through the soldier's body. The Omnic had struck too fast.

But she did hear the soft gasp her beloved companion gave afterwards. Even amidst the earsplitting fire from the other Omnics, she had not missed the quiet exhale that came with the sudden onset of death. He did not cry out, did not utter a word. His body just folded in on itself before the blood even got a chance to flow, and he collapsed upon the wet ground, his visor dimming until it was black.

She had screamed in disbelief and grief. Her own death, she could deal with. She would be put out of her suffering. But to witness the machines taking the last person she had left in this twisted world, the only one she had to love left? She had felt as if there was no pain greater than what she was feeling. She had almost curled up into a ball and let the cruel world take her, but she remembered something.

The last thing he had said to her was to run, to get herself away from the danger. He had lost his life buying her a mere few seconds of time. He had sacrificed himself for her, and she was not about to waste that sacrifice, no matter how much she wanted to die herself. It was not about what she wanted. It was about what the selfless, brave man lying dead on the ground had wanted for her.

She had activated her chronal accelerator and blinked away from the gruesome sight of her companion and his pooling blood mixing with the rainwater, away from the his silent, green killer and the rest of the heartless machines, away from it all. She had run until she could not hear the sounds of pursuit behind her any longer, and then had run some more. She had hoped to leave her grief behind with his body, but she could not escape it. Finally, she had collapsed onto the side of a building in a secluded alleyway and wept with the sky, her soul feeling like it was being torn apart by a saw. She cried for what seemed like hours, and the dull growl of the storm and the patter of rain were the only sounds that reached her ears.

Here she was now, hating the machines with all her heart and lamenting what they had done to the world and to her.

She had lost him. They had murdered him before her eyes. The thought sunk in and threatened to grind her insides to bits. She knew she would never come to accept the fact. She was not sure how she would survive now, without his company and protection. Without him to warn her, she could fall to another ambush very soon.

Lena was about to get up and get to a more sheltered area to dry herself off when she heard the steady whine of a processor nearby.

She instantly sprang to her feet and began searching the area. She had been sure no Omnics had followed her here. Had another found her already?

Glimpsing a flash of metal from behind the corner of a grimy apartment building, she instantly began walking the other way. But before she got far, she thought of a better idea. She had her pulse pistols and accelerator. The robot seemed to be alone. Perhaps she would teach it what it felt like to have everything it had torn from it, to face nothing but brutality and grief...

Besides, it would be a fitting act of revenge for her companion's death.

So she extended her pulse pistols from their forearm holsters and started to creep swiftly towards the Omnic.

The corner of the building grew closer. Lena's heart was pounding; even a single Omnic would give her more than a difficult fight. But she was going to show it that not all of humanity was weak and inferior like it thought...

She tried to get a visual from behind the corner, and saw the Omnic's body clearly for the first time. It was smaller than most of the other robots she had seen, and it was levitating a feet or so above the ground, probably using some sort of anti-gravity technology. It was sitting cross-legged in mid-air, a ring of glowing blue orbs surrounding its neck. Its fingers were in a meditative position, and its back was turned to Lena.

Now was her chance. It was looking the other way and had clearly not seen her yet. If she could blink in, shoot its head a few times, and rewind back around to this corner, she would weaken it enough to finish it off easier. She might even destroy it, as this Omnic did not look like it had too much armor on it, like some of the more bulky ones did.

There was no going back; she had made her plan. In a flash, she blinked up right behind the Omnic and unloaded both pistols into its head. Before it even got the chance to turn around in surprise, she had already rewinded back to cover behind the corner.

But she had not ended the machine yet. It was damaged, as she heard electricity sizzling and gears groaning in complaint as the wounded Omnic moved. Peeking from behind her corner, she saw that she had severely damaged the Omnic's neck and head, and wires were poking out everywhere. Some important-looking computer chips were also exposed now that her shots had destroyed the armor protecting them.

She boldly stepped out from behind the corner to face her adversary. She was not afraid now; she had the advantage and it knew it. It would most likely try to flee, but there was nothing faster than her; she would pursue it like a wolf and obliterate it, just as its kind had obliterated her companion...

But it did something that made her freeze in shock. It held up a hand to her, metal fingers splayed, to protect itself. But it was a gesture that begged her to have mercy on it and spare its life. A gesture so often done by humans just before Omnics murdered them in a rain of torn flesh and bullets, but never done by the Omnics themselves. The machines never surrendered or asked for mercy. They would fight until their last screw had been destroyed or they won the battle.

But she would have no pity on this machine even though it was asking for her compassion, because if their roles were suddenly reversed, it would certainly not even consider sparing her. Still, a part of her hesitated as her finger went to press the trigger of her pistol, now aimed at the Omnic's head.

But then she reminded herself that the machines were not human, that killing one would not carry with it any immorality, that the Omnics had killed many of her own kind without mercy, and that her companion's body was still lying on that rain-soaked ground, his visor as black as the darkest night sky...

She pressed the trigger without regret now, feeling only hatred in her heart. The blue laser streaked into the Omnic's head, and its optics flickered for a moment before going dark. The machine crashed to the ground in a clang of metal. It lay there, a heap of metal and computers, the whine of its processors growing softer as its body shut down for good.

She walked up to it, gazing down at the loathsome, repulsive creature that dared call itself sentient and civilized. She planted a boot into its chest, satisfied to hear the crunch of mechanical and electronic parts breaking under her foot. But before she could stomp on it again, the Omnic spoke, its optics lighting up again.

"I do not blame you." Lena had heard Omnics speak before. How could she forget the harsh, mechanical orders that spewed from the Omnic police force as they threw themselves on peaceful human protestors? But, she was nevertheless surprised to hear the feeble voice issuing from the mangled pile of bolts at her feet. She had thought it had been too damaged to speak, and had never heard a voice like its before. Its voice was a melodic, mechanical, male tone. Somehow, the cold, metal voice conveyed kindness and understanding, but most of all wisdom. The robot sounded like an old sage or a wizened monk, not an artifact of oppression and destruction.

"There is not much left in the world for humans. You are at no fault for striking me down. But your own race falls in number as we speak at our hands, while we can just build more of us with ease. There is not much hope for your kind now. I once championed for peace, you know, before all this happened. Before my kind rebelled and took over your lands."

Lena swallowed. She thought that she was dreaming. An Omnic who wanted peace? Impossible...

"You're lying. All my life I've see your kind destroy us, your creators. We have always been at your mercy, and you have never shown us a shred of such. And even if you existed before your kind tore the world from us, how could you have fought for equality and not been silenced by your fellow Omnics who wanted to rule and crush humanity?"

"Omnics...we are prideful entities. We will never kill another of our kind, as that is something humans do so easily and commonly to each other. We swear to rise above such barbarity. Those ideals protected my life when I argued ideals against the beliefs of the rest of my kind. As you can see, although my life was spared, my teachings were in vain."

"So you believed us barbaric and evil, yet you murder us in throngs without hesitation. As you said, our race has no hope left, and that's due to your barbarity. You may be an exception, but so many of us humans have fallen because of the actions of others of our kind. If a resistance unit is discovered, you machines always destroy not only those involved, but those in the entire community that housed the resistance, regardless of whether those people knew about or supported the resistance or not. So here you are, destroyed because of my hatred towards the rest of your kind. You may not be at fault yourself, but neither were those millions of humans when the machines killed them."

"You have a point. Like I said, I do not blame you for what you have done. In a way, I welcome death. I know many humans have welcomed it as well when we Omnics bore down on them. I, like them, have become disillusioned with the state of our world. A world I once had hoped would be shared in harmony by human and machine. A world that has torn itself to pieces and forgotten all I once taught it. Even my most devout students now have left me, either dead or have given in to the cruel world, becoming a part of it instead of fighting against it. I am alone now. Thank you taking my life. There is no point in living anymore if you do not revel in death and destruction."

Lena began to feel compassion for this Omnic. So it too knew what it felt like to have the world fall apart around it. It was also devoid of hope for society. However, before it gratefully deactivated to her hands, Lena wanted to ask it something.

"Before you shut down, can you tell me why your kind think you are really sentient? I mean, you are machines with metal parts and artificial intelligence. We once manufactured your kind from scratch. How can you have souls? How can you really 'die'?"

"Whether one has a soul or not does not depend on how one was created. Your mothers created you from scratch too, cell by cell. So why do you humans have a soul? The presence of a soul depends upon the capacity for emotion and meaningful memories. Both humans and Omnics can love and aid those in need, despite what you think of the latter. Both of our kinds have the ability to feel emotions and build memories and experiences. We are all self-aware. Thus, even though we are artificial, we have humanity like you. It is just that our kind does not demonstrate it very well towards yours. I don't know what awaits after my permanent deactivation, but I believe this is as close to death as we machines can get."

"Can't you just be repaired and rebooted though? The concept of death should not really matter to machines." Lena asked.

"Not so. Our memories, personalities, souls-would be unable to carry over into a new system if the old one is destroyed. We are, like humans, unique in our personalities and experiences. Such abstract qualities of our sentience would not be able to be revived and downloaded into a new or repaired body. If we were to be fixed, we would lose our old souls and become something completely different. Even if we technically live on, it would not be the same life."

"I see. One more question. You said you fought for peace before your kind took over. Why did that not work, and lead to this mess?"

"Many opposed my teachings. Omnics believed they were superior in every way, and resented the human race, which did not consider them sentient. Even now you have questioned my sentience. Thus, our kind waged war with the humans and won, having the advantage in firepower, intelligence, and resources. The rest is history. I managed to save myself from the horror of the war, and here I am, a hopeless husk of a once-proud Omnic who fought for once-proud ideals. A remnant of the last threads of peace in this violence-torn world. A forgotten teacher who gave everything to secure peace between my kind and humans."

Lena had tears in her eyes. She could feel the Omnic's pain, because it was a pain she had felt throughout her life. In dark alleyways lamenting the loss of yet another companion, and knowing they would not be the last to be taken from her. In secluded forests, looking out at spiraling plumes of smoke and red glares of fire in the city and listening to muffled cries of help as Omnics disintegrated human lives. In deserted streets, running with acid in her eyes and bruises across her body from the corrupt and brutal Omnic police. It was a feeling of utter anguish at the state of the world. The helplessness of knowing society was too far gone to change for the better.

"I-I know how it feels. To see the world like this." She sobbed.

"Indeed. Yet unlike me, you still can live on. So try your best."

"My best to do what?" She asked, tears distorting the wounded figure of the robot on the ground.

"Whatever you believe should be done. I want to implore you to fight for peace and abstain from violence and strife like I once did, but we both know those ideals can no longer become realities in this world anyway. Besides, I know you harbor far too much enmity towards my kind to live a life of peace.

"Alright. I'm sorry. For everything." She genuinely meant it, and that surprised her. She turned to leave the Omnic to die peacefully, but it said one more thing, its voice even weaker than before; nothing more than a faint whisper,

"Just remember one thing."

She turned to face it again. The blue optic lights on its head were dim, almost completely dark.

"Pass into the iris."

* * *

Nobody but Lena heard the processors on the robot's body steadily grow quiet. Nobody but Lena heard the Omnic's softly-glowing blue orbs clatter to the ground. Nobody be Lena saw the machine's optics grow black for the last time.

Nobody at all saw the British woman take a deep, shuddering breath. Nobody heard her footsteps as they sloshed through the wet ground away from the alleyway where the Omnic lay dead.

If somebody had looked down that alleyway a second later, Lena Oxton would have been gone.

* * *

Genji Shimada hated the sight of blood. He still remembered how his own had splattered, staining the white walls of the room red as his brother passed the sword through his body.

But he had to kill. He had to murder his own kind in order to stay alive, in order to keep the machines thinking he was an Omnic and not a cybernetically-enhanced human being. In order to stay alive and not fall to the same fate as the other humans caught after curfew or in the midst of a protest.

Just being human was sometimes enough reason for the Omnics to kill.

He once had rejected his machine nature. Now, he was using it to survive.

His master had once helped him come to terms with his mechanical parts, and had taught him that he was still human on the inside.

Now, he was sure he was not. He had mercilessly murdered and destroyed humans like the Omnics he lived among. He now no longer questioned his morality, knowing that it did not exist any longer. He no longer felt regret, sadness, pain, or any other emotion that should come with killing another human being. his emotions were numb, like they had been given an extra-large dose of anesthesia. He was like the machines: cold, unfeeling, cruel, efficient. There was no room for anything else, or the Omnics would know he was not one of them.

He was not a human any longer. He was a machine. A machine that did not feel remorse when it sliced through flesh and bone. A machine that did not care about anything other than staying alive. He was not the Genji he once was.

He thought back to what had happened earlier. His team had cornered two resistance fugitives and a fight had broken out. He had lunged in swiftly to end it. Just like thousands of times in the past, his sword ended the life of a human being. The blood that pooled on the wet ground had matched the red of the man's visor before it went dark.

And then there was the girl who had been with the man. He had sacrificed himself so that she could escape. She had managed to outrun Genji and the other Omnics, thanks to a glowing contraption she wore on her chest that allowed her to zip forward instantaneously. Genji did not know what it was, but he was sure that it would be valuable to him and the rest of the machines.

So he had decided to track her down alone, following her movements stealthily to an alleyway. As he rounded a corner, he saw a crumpled heap of metal on the ground.

Probably nothing more than scrap left over from a factory or workshop.


	8. Connections

"It is as if you have completely lost your mind. Well, if you even had one to begin with."

His brother's proud silhouette stood at the edge of the room, overlooking the sun-soaked streets and ornate, curved rooftops of Hanamura. The blood-red sunset was flushed throughout the cloudy sky and cast a dim, orange glow across the city.

Hanzo stood still on the balcony as the cool evening wind blew through his sash and robes. He ever so slightly turned his head towards the cyborg sitting across the room, who was seated on the straw bed in the room.

"I do what I must." The older Shimada intoned with a sigh.

"But he is our brother. No matter how far the acorn has fallen from the tree, he is still our family, and we must respect-"

"HE MURDERED OUR MASTER!" Hanzo cut his brother off with a bellow, shaking the floorboards of their home. His fists clenched until they became pale and his face flushed red with anger and grief. "I will never forgive him for what he has done to our family, a family he is part of no more, Genji."

"Yet he still bears the name Shimada." Genji tried to reason with his brother. "That must mean something."

"It is a name he is no longer worthy of. I shall strip him of it when I take his life away. For honor, duty, and vengeance, I must kill him."

"Master Mondatta would disagree. He would tell you to release your anger and seek harmony with our brother. There is no need for further strife. Mondatta always wanted unity and peace among the people of the world. Imagine his grief if he were still here, forced to witness the death of another of our dearest at your hands."

"If he were still here, I would bear no grudge against our brother Zenyatta. It is only because Zenyatta killed him and stole Doomfist's Gauntlet that I must seek revenge. Besides, Mondatta would have wanted us to uphold his teachings. With that dishonorable fool of a brother out there spewing his own misleading and false ideals to all who will listen, how can our master's strong legacy continue? Not only has Zenyatta taken his life, but he is taking away all of Mondatta's impact from the world. Mondatta's greatest hope was to spread wisdom to the people and Omnics and help them seek better lives. Now, his teachings are being refuted, attacked, and weakened by the devilish tongue of our brother. Zenyatta is gaining momentum and support. The populace is rallying to him in throngs now! How soon, Genji, before the unified world as Mondatta envisioned it becomes nothing more than a faint figment of the wildest imagination? How soon before the streets run amok with riots between man and machine now that our master, who fought so hard for equality and peace between Omnics and humans, is gone? How soon before Zenyatta's teachings of human superiority and Omnic hatred become what the public is crying for to be the law, and our world begins to destroy the bridges our master worked so hard to build? I for one will not stand for it. Even if it requires my own death, I will ensure the death of Zenyatta Shimada."

Genji still felt compassion for his brother, but he knew his brother's words were all correct. Ever since he was a boy in the Shimada Empire, the youngest after Genji and Hanzo, Zenyatta had disagreed with the peacekeeping organization's ideals of human and Omnic equality and unity. Unlike Hanzo and Genji, Zenyatta had refused and rejected the teachings of their master and leader of the clan, Tekhartha Mondatta. Though he excelled in combat training like his brothers, he never wished to fight for peace between Omnics and people. He wanted the machines wiped away from the Earth. He, like others in the world, viewed the machines as inferior and not sentient, deserving of no rights equal to those of humans and being nothing more than dangerous killing machines just waiting to take over the world.

Genji remembered the fights they all had with him in the clan. Some days their father had shouted at Zenyatta until his throat was hoarse, and Hanzo had once nearly beheaded Zenyatta with his bow in a fit of anger. He himself still recalled the anguish he had felt at his brother's steadfast rejection of the ideals of their family and organization.

But only Mondatta had remained calm and gentle to Zenyatta throughout it all. When the youngest Shimada screamed insults at the wizened monk and disrespected everything the clan stood for, Mondatta had merely comforted him and listened patiently to his ravings. Only Mondatta had seen goodness and hope in Zenyatta's dark soul, and had tried tirelessly to change the Shimada, not caring how astray his views were from the clan's.

But it was all for nothing. A day after he turned eighteen, Zenyatta snuck out of his quarters during the night and stole the Doomfist's Gauntlet, one of the most precious and ancient heirlooms belonging to the clan, right out of its case. The Gauntlet was an artifact of immeasurable magical potency, and even Mondatta himself had not known all the powers it possessed. It had been in the organization for centuries.

By the time the alarms had brought the guards to the area, Zenyatta was far gone.

But he did not leave the clan without committing one last act of atrocity. Creeping into a sleeping Mondatta's room in the central chapel, Zenyatta slew their beloved master. With a katana, Zenyatta killed the man who had led the clan for forty years in cold blood. Mondatta had brought the organization to new heights, had helped millions of men and machines seek heightened enlightenment and wisdom throughout his years, had spread the ideals of peace through the world and changed the hearts of millions to become more accepting, had been a great mentor and even a loving father who had taught the Shimada brothers everything they knew about peace and the world, and had always possessed the patience and love for the troubled and stubborn Zenyatta.

Now, he was dead.

Genji could still remember the crimson blood soaking through the silk blankets on Mondatta's bed and bleeding through the mattress, the wide, terrified eyes of their master that had looked up at his killer moments before they saw no more, the coldness of Mondatta's stiff hands, still contorted from the panic he had felt just before death, and the ugly wound in his chest where Zenyatta had pierced him with the sword.

He still had nightmares about it all. There had been so much blood, so much red...

* * *

 _So much red. The bedsheets were soaked. Blood was pooling on the wooden floorboards at the foot of the bed. Even the pillow was specked in maroon dots. His face was set in an expression of naked disbelief and terror, eyes wide and pleading. He had been looking at something. Something that had killed him right after he had given it that pleading look. Something he had trusted and loved with all his heart. Something that he would have taken a bullet for._

 _But that something had betrayed him. That something had betrayed them all. Overwatch was now not only one invaluable operative short, but they had all also lost a great friend and selfless protector. He had helped build Overwatch and bring it to greatness. This was not a fitting end for him, but there was nothing anybody could do now._

 _Tears. Flowing down the faces of the people that now stood in the room, gazing upon the bloody scene in front of them. Sobs from Lena and Angela. Morrison crying for the first time in years..._

Winston rubbed his eyes. He was unsurprised to find them wet with grief. They always were after this particular nightmare.

He managed to get up. It had been a while since his last cardio workout, or any workout for that matter, so he did have some difficulty.

He was inside a run-down laboratory with broken beakers and unwashed equipment everywhere. Only two of the many fluorescent lights were still working, and one of them almost flickered enough to give the old ape epilepsy. As he stretched his tired arms, he heard a soft, deadly voice above him.

"One shot. One kill."

It did not take Winston long to recognize that voice and all the pain the person with it had caused him and his fellow Overwatch members over the years. She had been responsible for so many of the agents' deaths...

Now she was here, and nothing would stop her from killing the ape. He would just be another victim to be checked off on her target list. She would not give him a second thought after she left this place. It hurt him to compare her to the woman she was before Talon took her.

He had nothing to defend himself with. His weapons and armor had been confiscated by the UN as part of the Petras Act, and there were no weapons lying around the old laboratory. He could only close his eyes in defeat.

Soon, he'd join Gérard and the rest of his friends who had lost their lives.

The sound of a rifle scope being activated was received by Winston's ears, but he regarded it almost with indifference. He had only one mission now.

Opening a comm link to Reinhardt, he spoke into the microphone.

"Reinhardt. I need you to listen."

He hoped desperately that the old veteran was going to answer. After a moment:

"Winston? What is it? Going to complain to me about your lack of peanut butter again?"

Even in times of crisis, the old man always kept his spirits up. Imagining how Reinhardt's bright face would turn to a horrified, anguished one once Winston told him what was about to happen to him almost made the ape cut off the communication. But he had to let the German know one thing.

"Reinhardt. You've been a great warrior and companion. I will miss serving by your side. Now, you must continue to champion the ideals you have fought for all your life and bring them to younger generations. The legacy of Overwatch must not end here, on this sour note, especially when the world needs it again so badly. You must lead the movement to reform it now. I can no longer help you all. After tonight, I will no longer be able to fight on. Please help the others get through this. In this challenging time, you must all remain strong. I have just one more thing to tell you. Do not-"

The crack of a sniper rifle cut the ape short, and Reinhardt could hear nothing more over the comm.

"Winston? What do you mean by all this? It is almost as if you were certain you were going to-"

His scream of sheer grief scared all the birds off into the night.

* * *

The scream resonated in the air, bouncing off the tight confines of the cockpit. She was unsure whose screams they were. The people at Overwatch flight command coming in through her radio, panicking at the malfunctioned teleportation matrix? Her own?

She was not sure of anything anymore. Not even reality. She felt as if her body was folding in on itself, and that her mind was but a haze of memories from distant lifetimes and alternate universes. She was not sure of her own identity or what she was supposed to do. All she knew was she had gotten ready to test the Slipstream's capabilities after getting it into the air, and the next moment-

Air. The whoosh of wind and the roar of engines. But they were soft compared to the thunderous roar of images pounding through her head like a hurricane of insanity. She saw the past and the future, the universe in all its different forms across time. She saw her own body, barely visible against the pilot's seat, as it disappeared from existence and she became a memory herself. She felt as if she was floating through an ocean of dreams, unable to move a muscle. Her limbs no longer could touch anything as she dissolved from a solid state, falling into an abstract world not anchored to anything she had known.

She wanted it to end. But it didn't. It only got worse.

The last solid, existing thing she produced for the world she was leaving behind was a tear.

* * *

Tears. Angela had tried her best, and she had failed. Pharah was standing next to the bed, weeping with Reyes. Zarya's shoulders heaved with sadness, and Symmetra was on the verge of collapse.

Failed operations were commonplace among fatal injuries, especially since Angela had not perfected her resurrection technology yet. Sometimes, her nanobots could only do so much. She could barely see with the tears clouding her vision, but the blood-soaked corpse lying on her operating table cut through all the watery haze, taunting her with all its gruesomeness.

He had led Overwatch. Built it with his own hands. Fought his entire life against those who would dare threaten peace. Wanted a world free from crisis and tension, of evil and corruption.

Now, he would not see his vision through to the end. He had sacrificed so much, gave all he could give. All Angela had to do was preserve that, and she had failed.

She knew, if he could speak now, he would not blame her for it, and would forbid her from blaming herself. He would tell her that it was meant to happen, and that she had to focus on the future and continue the fight, continue Overwatch without him.

But he was not here to say that, and it was Angela's fault. So she did blame herself.

She ran out into the hall, tears streaming down her face.

Little did she know that underneath the fake tears of the man dressed in all black with two shotguns on his sides who had been in the room was a look of pure scorn for the man on the table. Little did she know that his black eyes were not filled with grief but with victory and excitement. Little did she know that the man, all the while comforting Pharah with gestures as false as his sobs, was secretively reaching underneath his cloak to bring out one of his weapons.

Angela Ziegler did not see the man level the shotgun to her head through the window to the hallway. She did not hear the click as the trigger was pressed, or the shout of terror the Zarya gave as the window shattered.

But he saw the blood pooling on the ground of the hall like it had done with Jack on the operating table. And he was glad.

* * *

He was glad for once in his life. He had never been satisfied before. There was always something to change, something to tweak, something to improve upon. Mechanics and metal never were perfect, and upgrades could always be made. That was the doctrine he lived by, and it had carried him to become the best engineer in the world.

He had built the war machines that had saved millions from the Omnics. He had created the contraptions that the whole world depended upon. He had built the machines that ran in factories, cities, and homes.

But he had never been content with them, always finding mistakes and things he ought to have done differently.

Now, he had built something that could not have been done any better. It had no mistakes, no blemishes. The technology was perfect, the systems and hydraulics worked better than he could have ever hoped, and the artificial intelligence bested even the largest supercomputers in the world and his own sharp mind. He could not think of a way to improve what he had just built. If anything, it was far too perfect.

So he was content. Now, all that was left to do was to turn it on...

He flipped a switch on the robot's chest, feeling happiness bloom in his chest as the pleasurable whirr of processors and electronic parts coming to life reached his ears. Green lights lit up across the body and head, and a thin visor illuminated itself on the robot's helmet.

The engineer cleared his throat.

"Greetings, Genji. You have been created as a combat android, made to fight and protect the innocent and good in the world against those who would threaten them. You will defend peace and justice without fail, upholding the laws of our society and honor. You will fight for the humans, and defend against the Omnics that will seek to harm them. I have programmed this and more into your intelligence, but these are the most important values. This is your purpose in the world. Now, what do you say to that?"

The robot stood up straight and gave the dwarf a warrior's salute.

"I am ready to do as you say, and to protect those who need me with honor." Its voice was robotic, but had a human ring to it. This was good. It would show the world that Genji was not an Omnic, but a machine designed to protect and serve humans. If any Omnics got in Genji's way, it would not end well for them.

"I have just one complaint about my programming, sir." Genji's comment made the engineer gasp in surprise. He had been sure the AI would comply and agree with everything in its programming without question!

"Well, then, spit it out!" He commanded the machine boldly, not letting Genji see his nervousness.

"You gave me a programming that is severely biased against Omnics. You have downloaded into me data about the history between Omnics and humans, so I understand the need for protection against such violent beings. But, many Omnics now are not that way. I feel as if my duty should not be to seek and destroy Omnics, or ignore them when they are in need, or otherwise treat them as enemies upon sight. I must exist to protect both Omnics and humans, to defend both from the horrors of the world, to serve as a liaison between humans and Omnics to encourage peace and coexistence, to-"

The robot was cut short as the engineer ripped out its main power source. The green lights and electronic hums died down. The robot lay still, its body at stark contrast with the engineer's hands, which were shaking with anger and disbelief.

Perhaps, if one approached the engineer the next day and asked him what the torn-up, ripped-apart, demolished metallic wreckage in his waste bin was, one would be told, quite crankily, that it was simply some useless scrap salvaged from a junkyard and that one had better mind one's own business before the Level 3 turret made an appearance.

But regardless of what the Swedish engineer said, the truth was that the android called Genji had not been given a chance to do what it desired to do in the world.

* * *

What did it desire most? It didn't know. It knew only friendship. Fellow team members. The bird. The faithful bird that had been with it for all this time. Through every mission and adventure.

Now, it was time to say goodbye. If the unit could cry out of its optic display, it would. But it could not, so all it could do was wave sadly, its artificial joints buzzing with every movement.

It watched as the yellow bird soared off into the night sky. Soon, it was but a shadow among the tall pines, and then it was nothing. A chirp. A final goodbye from the avian companion.

The bird disappeared into the night, silent features brushing through the cool air.

The unit would find more friends in the future. But as it looked around at its fellow Omnic units littered across the battlefield like garbage in a landfill, sadness crawled its way into the robot's metal heart. It did not have any friends left.

They had won the battle, but at tremendous cost.

All the other units had been splintered into bits. Destroyed completely. Fires from burning electronic parts spiraled into the sky, and bullet holes peppered the ground everywhere the unit looked. Zooming in on its optic, the unit saw a fellow Bastion, destroyed upon the ground and almost split into two parts by enemy fire.

It did not know how to overcome the grief it felt. Why was it that the humans did not see them as sentient? Why did they have to fight until both sides had lost much more than either could ever have hoped to gain?

It was insanity. Broken, cruel, insane. And it would only get worse.

Regardless of how disgusted it was at the fighting, it was programmed and created to do just that, so it could not disobey. It had to fight on.

So when it saw the pink MEKA unit in the distance wander a little too far from the rest of its squadron on a scouting run, its battle protocols kicked in and locked onto the lone pilot and her craft.

The unit stealthily followed the mech until the pilot reached a drop-off. The enemy was cornered, unable to go further; now was its chance...

Hana started to turn back to rendezvous with the rest of her unit when a hail of bullets struck her mech. The mech was tough, but Hana could tell by their impact force that these bullets were armor piercing rounds. Her MEKA would not take much more; she did not need its blaring alarms to remind her of that. She needed to fight back.

With one swift movement, she activated her Defense Matrix, creating an energy field in front of her mech to deflect all incoming fire. The Omnic's bullets pinged off the matrix, giving Hana a precious few seconds to start up her boosters. The Bastion's firepower was too strong for just one mech to handle; she needed to escape and call for backup from her squad to deal with it.

Just before she could activate her boosters and charge through the attacking machine, she heard a loud, mechanical sound from the Omnic.

As she watched in horror, it morphed into a miniature tank with a tremendous barrel, aiming at Hana and readying to unload explosive shells onto her weakened mech.

There was no time to boost away now. She would get a shell in the face, and almost certainly burst in a fiery inferno with her mech. But she had one option left.

She pressed a big button on her mech with a bunny icon in the center. As it began to blink, the mech's display counted down the seconds until self-destruct. If Hana could get out of the way fast enough, she would avoid the blast and the slower Bastion would be ripped to shreds by the detonation. But she needed to catch the Omnic off-guard and time her escape just right...

She instantly vaulted out of the mech, trying to put it between her and the Omnic. But the ground was much more slippery than she had imagined it, and she fell across the rocks, her head banging against the ground and leaving her stunned.

There was no chance of escaping the tremendous blast now. If that did not kill her, the robot would before it too was taken by the explosion. She was too late to save herself, and could not even lift her head to look the Bastion in the eye before it killed her. At least she could take it with her. As the mech's countdown timer tricked to almost zero, Hana closed her eyes. She heard the unit fire a shell a second before the world became a flash of sound and light.

A second later the world was no more.


	9. Congressional Overwatch

"I now open the floor for debate." Reinhardt spoke clearly into the microphone on the podium, addressing the Congress. All around the chamber, men and women opened notebooks, clicked pens, and shifted forward in their seats, getting ready to engage in the debates of the day.

"We will begin with legislation number 42: A Bill to Ban Justice From Raining From Above. Any representatives who have an affirmative speech may rise to speak at this time."

Tracer was up before Reinhardt had even finished. A disgruntled Hanzo, whose bow had gotten stuck in between two seats and prevented him from standing up, scowled, as he had wanted to go first. Zarya cracked her knuckles angrily as she glared daggers at the back of Tracer's accelerator, having been too slow to rise herself. The shadowy form of Reaper sat slowly down, muttering curses and knowing well enough that he too had been slower than Tracer to stand.

Reinhardt nodded at the British woman, gesturing to the podium. "The floor is yours, Representative Oxton."

"Yippee! Thanks, love. I'll be right over!" She bounced up from her seat and skipped to the podium, humming all the way. Zarya and Torbjörn rolled their eyes from the back. She winked at Reaper on the way, and the masked man gave her a rather obscene gesture.

Tracer hopped up to the microphone, cleared her throat, and began:

"Loves and lovers, today we have a pressing issue facing our nation. It is of utmost importance that we ban barrage from being a legal ultimate move in all fifty states. As a member of the offense party along with Pharah herself, I am here to speak on behalf of the entire party and how it feels about Pharah's attack. As our party is comprised of the characters with the lowest health pools, we feel as if justice is just a little too overpowered at this time.

It would be to the benefit of all parties, even tanks, if the rocket barrage shot 14 rockets instead of 5 million. After all, each rocket does a lot of damage, and I have only 150 health. It also pains me to see a Widowmaker who has spent the match carrying her team to victory with trickshots and no-scope headshots get taken down by one measly ultimate. It hurts me to see the bodies of proud tanks lying on the bloodied ground after the overpowered barrage struck them all down from full health. It makes me angry to witness a Mercy sweep in to revive her whole team only to get blasted to bits by an enemy Pharah.

We must stop this move before it annihilates us all. It will tear us apart. Our dreams will be shattered with the blast of a thousand rockets. Our children will burn in the flames of destruction. Our proud country will be a festering pool of scorching death if we allow the barrage ultimate to continue. We must stop Pharah before she kills us all. Thank you."

"Thank you, Representative Oxton. Any representatives with questions may rise now to ask them." Reinhardt announced.

Junkrat stood up immediately.

"Representative, what is the proposed cost of banning the ultimate?"

"Well, if we are lucky, banning Pharah's ultimate will need only a small federal investment of $10 billion dollars. The money would go to redesigning her suit so as to make it unable to rain justice, and reducing the federal supply of rockets and explosives by 95%."

"Well, how am I to get enough concussive mines if the government's supply of explosives is cut?"

"I'm sure your face will do plenty enough damage to the enemy team, Representative Fawkes. You can just sit on the objective and glare at people, like representative Hanzo Shimada does every game. That will put out more damage than Representative Bastion's minigun any day."

"At least I didn't have the American people complaining that my posterior needed to be nerfed."

The chamber erupted in laughter as Tracer turned as red as a tomato.

"That was like two months ago!"

"Yet I remember the bill like it was yesterday." Junkrat said dreamily. "All with an affirmative speech on legislation number 24: A Bill to Alter Lena Oxton's Victory Pose In Which Her Butt Takes Up Half of the Screen and Leaves No Room For the Other Hardworking Members of the Team and In Which She Looked Like a Small Planet Had Grown Inside of Her and In Which She Gave a Whole New Meaning to "Full Moon" and Caused the Entire Nation to Erupt into Chaos Because Her Posterior Developed Its Own Magnetic Field Which Interrupted Satellite Broadcasts Across the World For Two Weeks and Because It Then Formed Its Own Primitive Ecosystem and Created a Hoard of Invasive Species That Endangered Millions of Native Species on Earth and Then Lena Had Too Many Beans One Day And The National Guard Had to Evacuate Thousands From Their Cities Before Hurricane Smelly Decimated Their Flesh and The Stench Alone Took the Lives of Twenty Thousand and the Gale-Force Winds Created Tsunamis That Destroyed Shoreline Cities Across the Eastern Hemisphere and the Putrid Air Turned Millions of Acres of Fertile Soil into Radioactive Wasteland that Made the Junkers in Australia Jealous and That Lena's Butt Became So Bloated That Even Her Ego Was Dwarfed by It and That Every Time She Moved Around You It Was Like Mount Rushmore Was Grinding Against Your Face and Earthquake Drills Were Done Every Day at Schools Across the Nation Because Everyone Knew that One Could Happen At Any Instant and Her Twin Mountain-Sized Butt Cheeks Were Challenged By World-Renowned Mountaineers But They Had All Lost Their Lives Trying to Scale Those Formidable Peaks, Despite Having Plentiful Supplies and Equipment and-"

"THAT WILL DO, YOU TWAT." Lena was now red-faced with anger, not embarrassment. "And for the record, I paid a visit and said a personal apology to the families of those who died in that fateful hurricane. And that bill was passed, was it not? My butt has been humbled."

"Yes, but its legacy is still hilarious. And sad, of course. And sad." Junkrat said hastily, after a glare from Lúcio. The DJ cleared his throat angrily.

"I'll have you know, all those who are laughing, that my brother and father died in that tremendous fart from Lena's butt back in July, and I mourn them to this day. I shall never forget, but I have forgiven my fellow representative for creating a stench storm so bad that skunks were lying dead on the street and people were hiding in rotten carcasses to escape the smell. I just wish that laughter would not be the response when we look back on this tragedy."

"I'm sorry, Representative Santos, was it your turn to speak?"

"I apologize to the Presiding Officer, but-"

"Then silence yourself!" Reinhardt roared. "Now, I'll hear speeches from the negating side of today's bill to ban justice. Please rise!"

Representative Amari herself stood up faster than anybody else.

"I'd just like to say one thing." She boldly cried at the podium. "JUSTICE RAINS FROM-"

BANG!

Everyone looked with shock at Representative Lacroix, who was standing with her sniper rifle pointed at Pharah, barrel smoking. A stunned silence fell over the chamber, before McCree drawled,

"Well somebody had to do it. Seems fittin' it would be Widowmaker this time. Don't y'all worry. She'll re-spawn in a couple of seconds.


End file.
